


Brighter Days

by TheAngryKimchi



Series: Brighter Days [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infinity War spoilers, Intersex Loki (Marvel), It's not as dark as it sounds, Like so much angst, Loki Feels, M/M, Mourning, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pseudo-Incest, Russian Translation Available, Slow Build, Thor Feels, Thorki - Freeform, confusing Loki shit, eventual slash, i am not even kidding, mentions of past character death, really slow build, the author has many feels too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-11 22:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngryKimchi/pseuds/TheAngryKimchi
Summary: The rage never left him, waiting right under the surface for the smallest opportunity to rise and Thor is scared; scared for when he will finally lose the control he has on the last tendrils of his sanity and be consumed by grief and helplessness.-A year after the final battle against Thanos, Thor is still mourning for his people and his brother. Then comes the call.





	1. Don't Cry Golden King

**Author's Note:**

> I finally let go to the force of Thorki feels and it just had to be at the time for Infinity War.
> 
> Fix-It fic of sorts because nothing is good and everything hurts and I had to do something about it. Enjoy!
> 
> Update: I decided to make this into a multi-chaptered story instead of posting in a series format.
> 
> Update 2: The first chapter now has a [русский ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7101485/) translation thanks to the lovely [julsobol](https://julsobol.tumblr.com/)! Thank you so much, darling <3

It's late into the night and the sky is black, the few stars and constellations viewed by New York covered by the dark clouds on the vast expanse of the sky as Thor stands in the roof of the Avengers tower, letting the heavy rain fall onto his miserable form and soak him to the bone. But he pays no heed, nor finds the wetness on him uncomfortable. He never did.

Thor is alone for he wants no company tonight. Today is not such a day. It doesn't call for the easy camaraderie of the people he has come to call shield-brothers and shield-maidens. For today and tonight is a day they all chose to spend time on their own lonesome company, licking their still healing wounds the way each chose to for themselves.

It's late and Thor can feel the heavy drops of rain falling on his short hair, crawling down his neck and face, and he contemplates, briefly, how strange a feeling it still is even after a year of frequent downpours - the reason behind them pretty obvious for him and the rest of the Avengers. Thor hasn't found a reason growing it out again, maintaining the short cut that senile old man had given him is easier.

(He doesn't have a reason to grow it out. Not anymore. Not when the reason he had started letting it settle longer on his shoulders is gone. Not when there isn't a lock of raven hair to plait between his golden ones in remembrance and mourning. Not when his people and their traditions are dead - all gone because he wasn't strong enough to protect them, because he wasn't brave enough to take his place as a King sooner. He isn't worthy anymore. He isn't worthy of anything.)

The city's lights underneath are blinding as always and his eyes hurt a little, sting a lot - they haven't stopped stinging for some time now (especially his right one, the one Hela took and Loki healed, only for the weird Bunny to give him back his sight at the end); the constant feeling of them wanting to fill with tears his faithful companion in the nights that have passed. There are black circles underneath his eyes for sleep isn't very fond of Thor lately; he only manages to lie down for a few hours that are mostly spend with him turning in his bed and thinking, thinking, _thinking_. Thinking of failing his people, of letting down his Father and Mother, of not protecting his brother; and then his thoughts turn to Loki - like they always do. Finding him and finally having him by his side, only to lose him again. Too soon. So soon.

Thor can't close his eyes for long anymore -the image of his brother crooked and unmoving waiting right behind his eyelids to ambush him. He can't sleep for long - when he does actually sleep - and he feels so old and tired, eons older than he actually is. There are wrinkles on his face and bags under his eyes and he has lost some of his golden pallor and he feels dull against the vibrant life of the city that never sleeps.

It's late and he's standing at the edge of the tower, right at the precipice where his brother stood almost a decade ago, driven mad by the same creature that caused his undoing at the end - Thor wishes he could kill Thanos again, drive Stormbreaker through his thick neck and watch him gurgle and choke on his own blood. Gurgle and choke like Loki did in Thanos's hands.

He feels the shimmer of anger singing in his very soul, the crackle of lighting on his fingers as he tightens them to fists.

The rage never left him, waiting right under the surface for the smallest opportunity to rise and Thor is scared; scared for when he will finally lose the control he has on the last tendrils of his sanity and be consumed by grief and helplessness, because that's when his berserker nature will come forward and nobody will be safe - no friend nor foe -, nobody will be able to pull him back into himself - no, the only one who ever could is gone as Thor's hope is gone alongside him. His hope dying when they used the Stones to bring everything and everyone back to their natural order and there was still no sight of the ship with Asgardian refugees to be seen, nor a crooked smile and a silver tongue snarking at him that he took long enough.

Thor wishes, he wishes every time of every day they could get back his people and his brother, too. But everything is for naught for they are gone. Forever gone to the golden gates of Valhala - for his people, brave to the very end, had wielded swords and tried to resist the beast with everything they had. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

It's late and Thor stands there, looking out in the night, not really seeing anything but the ghosts haunting his mind and his whole existence.

Thor is a King without people, without home and without family.

He's the King of Nothing and he feels every inch like it.

 

* * *

 

They get the call a week later.

Nick Fury's face looks pensive through their screens while he briefs them on the new mission; apparently a strange force field has being located in some wood forest in Canada and he wants the Avengers assembled and heading there yesterday.

Tony is rolling his eyes, snarking at the director and the Cap tries to reason that they need more information before heading headfirst into something that could be dangerous (they are all more careful than they always had been, more mature and Thor guesses someone can have so many near-death experiences before thinking more levelly on a situation).

"What kind of force field? Is it an EMF one or something else entirely? Is it alien, what are the showings? Do we have any measurements, anything that can be useful?" Banner asks and it shows the team's closeness when they all nod their heads instead of sneering at each other or making comments like they did back when they first met. Thor wishes they had become as tight a team without all the loss and danger that came to pass.

Fury's obviously gritting his teeth, going over what he can let out. His one eye glances briefly at Thor before turning to Banner. Thor catches the movement, the contemplative look that's sent his way, and he knows the rest do too, they are all very well-trained and skeptical to allow anything escape their attention anymore.

"It's alien. The showings are high; we have only seen measurements this high only once before." he glances at everyone, careful to not let his eye linger on Thor more than it should, but Thor knows when he is taken into consideration and he doesn't like it- just like they all know there is something he isn't enclosing and they don't like it either. "We want Captain, Iron Man, Black Widow and Hulk to go investigate and relay back. The rest are to stay out of this one until further notice."

 _Thor is meant to be put,_  Thor reads between the lines and he likes it even less -his fingertips start crackling again, he is so close to losing it, closer still.

"Fury." Tony starts, impatient, irritated, but Thor cuts in, tightening his fists where they are resting over his folded arms.

"I am going." Thor announces.

"Thor, it's direct order from-"

"I don't take orders from anyone, only suggestions from my team." _I do what I want_ , Loki's voice jibes inside his head and Thor is certain he is losing it. "So you better tell us now what you are hiding and why you do not want me there, before we find out on our own." his voice is leveled for he is trying so hard to not show how close to the surface his destructive power is - a single, wrong thought and he could strike the tower down. And he doesn't want this.

Fury is gritting his teeth again, contemplating and Thor wants to strike at him so badly he is surprised from the force of it.

"Sir, just tell us. It will only get us to move faster. You know we will find out one way or another." Natasha says, always the beacon of sense, better with words than any one of them, and there are a few pensive moments before Fury relents and sighs, leaning back in his chair.

"The showings are similar to the ones we got when Thor and his warrior friends first came to Earth, but at the same time they are much more than that. They are similar to those and also to when Loki had the Tesseract. But we all know this can't be the case." Fury lets on, taking in carefully Thor's posture and minutive expressions.

Thor can feel a pang into his stomach and for a few minutes he can't even breathe. Grief at the mention of his friends and his brother take over, but there is a newfound sliver of hope there too. And he can't have that. He cannot dare hope only for that hope to be yanked away from him like a rug under his feet.

Not again. Not this close to his rage.

Everyone is staring at him, they almost aren't breathing in wait of his reaction and he nods once, brows furrowed and face hard.

"We're on it." Steve declares and they start getting ready.

 

* * *

 

They take the Quinjet, but Thor declines. He needs the feel of the air against his face, needs to prepare himself for whatever is waiting at the end of their destination, needs to keep himself grounded for whatever is to come.

Thor tries to quiet his mind, but there are possibilities running through it and he just _can't_.

It could be Sif. Even now he isn't sure what have happened to her, Loki having informed him only of her exile -she was too smart and observant for her own good and Loki's plan didn't call for smart people. She could be the one coming to find him, somehow having made it to Midgard. Thor would be thankful for that, having a familiar face before him again would help greatly.

Then his mind supplies him of all the Asgardians having traveled or immigrated to other realms. And Fury said it was a great showing of field numbers, so maybe his people are the ones who have found him. But no, it can't be. They would need a wise sorcerer for a feat this great and the only one who could do this, who knows the secret passages like the palm of his hand, is dead.

The Valkyrie. He wonders what have happened to her; having been rendered unconscious and flung out the ship by one of the beast's watchdogs. Thor hopes she survived and that he'll see her one day again -maybe this is the day. The Hulk would like that, Thor would like that.

It could be anyone; it could be anything, really. Nothing is telling him it's of Asgardian origin, so he has to snuff out the crazy feeling of hope.

Thor shakes his head and tries to make his mind to _shut up_. He can already feel a light drizzling coming from the clouds above him, so he needs to calm down- he doesn’t want to make his comrades' flight and mission difficult. He looks at the rising sun and closes his eyes momentarily, calling Stormbreaker to go faster.

  

* * *

  

It's several hours later that they land in a clear patch of land in a dense forest, somewhere deep in the vastness of Canada. Tall maple trees surround them, their canopy so thick barely any light from the midday sun can reach the ground. Thor lands on a spot of dirt soundly, crunching softly the grass under his feet and staples the axe to his armor while he waits for his teammates to come out.

"Hey, Big Guy." Steve greets, patting him on the back as he comes to stand beside him, stretching his legs out, scratching a hand through his beard.

"How was your flight, my friend?" Thor asks, throwing the woods around them a thoughtful glance. They are full of wildlife and he can hear some of the creatures scurrying away at the sound of his booming voice.

"Good. Good. It was nice." Steve replies and starts taking in the nature.

One by one the Avengers file out and come to stand somewhere beside him and Thor can feel what they are doing; they are surrounding him with their presence, showing with their body language that they are here for him should he need them. Thor is grateful for they are trying even if they cannot truly understand the depth of his grievances, how it felt to lose it all and being so close to losing yourself, too. Or maybe they can.

"Should we get on with it?" Tony asks, the metallic face of his suit is open and his voice is void of urgency or irritation.

Everyone is looking at Thor for his approval and he nods, letting a close-lipped smile adorn his lips, trying to look braver than he feels. "Yes, let's go my friends." 

Tony takes to the air, looking out for any obvious sign of the force field or danger - who knows, they all have become a little more paranoid since Thanos - and the rest stay on foot, spanning out but keeping each other in direct view.

It's not easy navigating through the forest, even with their technological aids and they all try to watch Banner's back as he walks in front of them, holding a strange type of thing in his hands, murmuring about his findings and wincing as the sound from it becomes louder and louder still - Thor can feel his hair standing on end, a hand hovering over Stormbreaker at all times, even as lightning crackles over his palm and fingers.

It's at least an hour in their trekking when they hear Tony calling to them through their in-ears.

"Guys, I can see something up ahead."

"Can you describe it?" asks Natasha and readies her knives.

"It's surrounding a cave and I've never seen anything like this." he takes a breath and they can hear Jarvis - newly built back - giving off his report to Tony. "The EMF is from something else and it looks like some sort of protective globe. Kinda gold, kinda green. It's weird."

"Our life is weird." Banner mutters and turns off his machine.

"How long until we reach it?" asks Thor.

"Five...ten minutes tops." Iron Man says and lands suddenly beside them. "I can't go any nearer. It's messing up with my suit."

Steve nods and tells him to stand back, but Tony won't have any of it and simply stands out from the suit, clad in his leggings and t-shirt. They don't like it, but there is nothing they can do, so they don't try to change his mind.

They take a few steps forward and Thor stills, making the others halt in their steps too when they feel him stopping. He can feel something calling to him, making his blood rush and his head dizzy, his thoughts a hazy mess. Thor groans and puts his palms over his ears, the sound from Banner's machine getting louder by the second, until he can't take it anymore and growls to him to shut it off.

"It's shut!" Bruce exclaims and grabs at Thor's forearms, trying to examine him while the others look at them in confusion and alarm.

"Shut it off, it's driving me crazy!"

In the back, the Iron Man suit crumbles to the ground like a pile of garbage and Thor howls in pain, feeling like he is ready to pop.

The Avengers get into position, drawing knives and arrows and shields and are ready for whatever may come. The Hulk comes out, taking a few steps away from Thor who continues howling, feeling his throat becoming raw and the current bubbling inside him wanting to be let out, wanting to be released.

Thor takes half a step forward and that's it. The current snaps and Thor feels like the first time he became pure light and thunder.

The Avengers scramble for cover when Thor lets out a great bolt of lightning that makes everything cast into electric blue for a moment before it starts dissipating and he crumbles to his arms and knees, wheezing for air.

"What the hell was that?!" Tony almost shrieks, poking his head out from behind a medium sized boulder, receiving equally confused looks for an answer.

Thankfully, everyone is unharmed, even if they are a little frazzled at the edges, but they don't sustain any injuries and the worry for their friend takes over soon enough that they are running to his side in the span of moments and try to check on him. But Thor isn't responding to their inquiries of his health, he simply stares at the ground, mismatched eyes staring at the dirt and full lips parting to gulp down mouthfuls of air. It seems like hours have passed trying to pull him back and they are starting to become really concerned about Thor when they hear a young voice behind them - somehow familiar, but at the same time completely strange - and they turn to look at a kid standing there, between two tall, thick trees.

"Took you long enough, brother." the boy says, smirk quirking his lips in a taunt - it looks like it should not belong to a face so young and innocent, slightly cruel in its curl, but at the same time utterly fitting to the soft features.

The Avengers stand again in position around their fallen friend and Thor finally seems to be dragged back to reality; he raises his head and looks at the boy, takes in his slight form and clothes and characteristics and sobs out a name he thought he'd never call again - not towards its owner at least.

"Loki."

It comes out as a whisper, heavy with hope and confusion and Thor wonders if this is it, if he lost his sanity.

Tony makes an inquiring noise at the back of his throat, standing a little back from the others, still in a defensive stance as he looks confused between Thor and the boy. Nobody dares to utter a single word, to even breathe the wrong way.

"'Tis me, brother." the kid - Loki, who could believe that, certainly not Thor - confirms and takes a step forward, reaching his hands out, palms up and the Avengers take a step back, drawing even more tightly towards Thor. Thor is thankful for the sentiment, but he's sure of what he is seeing and what he is feeling so he gets slowly, tremblingly to his feet and shuffles towards his brother.

"Thor, it could be a trap." Natasha warns, trying to hold him back.

"I have been waiting for you, Thor." Loki smiles up at his big brother and his eyes are a vibrant green swirling with gold and blue, his small body is covered in a light sheen of gold and green, too- the proof of the seidr slowly dissipating.

"It is not one." Thor murmurs and kneels a few steps away from his beloved brother, somehow brought back to life again. "Loki, I thought I had lost you," his words are full with sentiment and he half-expects his brother to laugh at his face. "Where were you?" he asks, eyes unable to leave the small face, running over the alabaster skin, the slightly rosy cheeks, thin lips and tiny nose, his short black hair. His brother is looking as he did when they were ten and everything was nice and happy between them, before their paths started diverging; Loki choosing books and seidr over warrior training.

The kid smiles happily and runs a soft hand over Thor’s cheek. "In that cave over there. You can say I was..." he pauses, searching for the right word and smiles when he finds it, " _incubating_ , until I was ready to come back to you. Just like I had planned." his eyes sparkle in satisfaction of a spell perfectly done, like they always did and Thor is more confused than ever.

"But ho-how?" he's trembling, torn between wanting answers and wanting to smother his brother in his arms, to lock him away somewhere and never let him come to harm ever again. His precious little brother.

"This, _he_  will answer you." Loki says cryptically and leaves a soft peck to Thor's forehead before situating himself in front of his brother; he sits on the ground a few paces away, folding his legs in front of him and smiles soothingly before closing his eyes and murmuring a small incantation, letting his hands lie on his knees.

For a few moments nothing is happening, Thor is holding his breath and it is like the whole nature surrounding them does the same as he waits impatiently - the need to grab his brother into his arms too great to hold back - and then the air between him and his brother is shifting and rippling and changing and Thor feels like he is getting punched in the gut at the image forming before his very eyes.

"Loki." Thor gasps when a hologram materializes in front of the kid's sitting form.

"Thor."  His brother - not the kid version of Loki, but how Thor has last seen him - is smiling in contempt, dirty from the fighting and frantic looking, his eyes are flying somewhere to the side every-so-often, looking out for oncoming danger. "I know you think little of me at this moment and you have every right to."

"No." Thor murmurs breathlessly, reaching out an arm to touch his brother's form as if he's truly standing there. "No, Loki." his hand goes through the hologram, like it would with any of Loki's illusions. Oh, how he wishes it was just another illusion.

Loki continues speaking, voice low and urgent. Explaining. Trying to make the best of what little time he has.

"I didn't betray you. Not this time and never again. The Tesseract was the only way for me out of the vault. It was the only way for me to survive and come back to you. I should have told you, but I didn't have the time. I was going to, I swear to our Mother's soul, Thor. I would never hide this from you."

"I know." Thor mumbles, tears start running down his face, at last. He already knows Loki had been loyal in the end; everything became so clear to him this last year with nothing else to do but to think and ponder and mourn, find reasoning in Loki's careless actions and thinking that he couldn't help or save his brother in the end.

"My brother, I know what I am going to do might seem stupid and vain, but it's the only way. I have to let him get me. It's the only way to save you, to get him away from you, until you are ready and strong enough to fight him." There's a small smile curling on his lips and he extends his arm, passing it over Thor's cheek, like he could see the future and knew how Thor would be on his knees in front of him, crying and unbelieving and regretting - oh, regretting everything so much. "This kid - my past self - is my final gift to you. Proof of my love and loyalty to you. He is me. He has all my memories and my powers will come back to him with time as he will get older." His thumb is making a rubbing motion and Thor makes himself believe he can feel it as he would if his brother was flesh and bones and truly able to touch him. "But he still has the hope I had at that age. He is everything good I ever was and am. All the bitterness and darkness gone." Loki jerks and retrieves his hand, looking at the side before turning his gaze for a final time onto Thor. "Thor." he takes a deep breath, "My brother. My King, I will never betray you again. As the rightful King of Jotunheim and your brother you have my word - no matter how little this means to you now." Loki smiles lovingly. "I love you, my brother and I shall take my place by your side as we always knew it would be." Then he is making some quick moves with his hands and the hologram vanishes from sight.

"No!" Thor shouts, springing to his feet in a vain attempt to cling on his brother's form. But his hands grab thin air. "No! Not again! Loki, no!" he growls wetly, sobs wracking his form as he falls back to his knees and allows himself to cry and let it all out, the dam broken, finally. Head bowed with sorrow once again.

There's a hand on his back trying to rub soothing circles, but he's inconsolable; Natasha's attempts and Steve's soft words falling on deaf ears. He can feel electricity rushing through his blood, his fingers grasping at the ground start crackling blue and he wants to warn them to step back, but his voice is gone. His ability to breathe is gone.

There's only sorrow taking over, sorrow and regret for not having enough faith, for rushing into conclusions like he always did and for letting his brother die again. Brutal sobs are the only thing he is capable of making it seems.

Thor's mind is lost in a circular motion of panic; Loki's words running through it along with his own ugly,  _awful_ last ones to his brother and the images of Loki's savage and undeserving death and it's too much. It's too much. The heartache and the loss and his own uselessness as he stood there and could do nothing but watch and scream and scream and scream.

It's so much and he has held back for so long without proper rest and closure and it's finally taking its toll on Thor, the sight of his beloved brother mere moments before his death, thinking how to help Thor drowning the last dregs of his thinly held together composure.

The electricity is rushing in his veins, singing to be let out, to destroy and avenge and he knows it will be catastrophic if he lets go and he might not come back from that panicked, raging state of the berserker, because Loki isn't here to bring him back like he did the last time Thor lost control. Loki isn't here because he is dead, for the third and final time, and he won't come back and it's all Thor's fault.

Thor has failed him. He has failed him time and time again and everytime it resulted in this: losing his brother again and again, both mentally and physically. How could he have failed him so damn much? Why wasn't Thor better at keeping him safe, keeping their people and friends safe, keeping their mother safe?

An otherworldly growl starts resonating from his very core and he knows, he knows he is losing control, he can't hold back much longer, but he still can't talk or scream danger to his comrades, he can hear the thunder rumbling above and everything is so vivid when he opens his eyes, so very sharp; the grass is greener than it was, the trees browner and the wind is cutting on his skin and through his short hair with harsh force. The Avengers are shouting over his head, hands try to pull him from the black hole he is slowly sucked in, like Loki did when he fell from the Rainbow Bridge - his mind is running over the times he saw Loki dying, a vicious cycle - nothing is stopping the storm now and Thor is afraid he will have more people to mourn when he comes back - if he comes back.

The thunder is singing to him, it calls him to let go, stop holding back because this is what he is; death and destruction and fear.

And Thor remembers, he just remembers how Loki was afraid of thunder and lightning when they were small, before finding out it was Thor's power and Thor was scared Loki would be afraid of him too, the thought enough to make his little heart shake and shatter as he cried to their mother about losing his little brother's love to fear. But, nevertheless, it was his little Loki who had taken the steps towards Thor's raging form the first time he had lost control and nobody else could approach. It was Loki - small, mischievous, fifteen-year-old Loki - who had gone against his fear and had soothed Thor out of his mind, dragging him into his arms and holding him there on the dirt of the training grounds until Thor stilled and collapsed into an exhausted sleep. His brave, smart baby brother. Always having Thor's back.

(Thor likes to say he doesn't remember what had caused his young self to fall into the berserker back then - too scared of his sinful thoughts, of his wrong feelings taking over his barely adult self - denying the very idea and trying to bury his immoral self deep within, but he remembers vividly the way Loki's soft hands had caressed his face, how his lips had spoken calming words to his ear in that velvety smooth way of his and how his long fingers had ran through Thor's tresses chasing away self-destructing thoughts. Bringing back the calm to settle over his mind. And it's only fitting that the same hands and the same voice - even if it's younger than back then or the last time they had to sooth him back into calmness - are what pull him back this time around too.)

In his panic and the overwhelming feelings of loss, Thor has forgotten of his brother's younger counterpart and he is suddenly pulled back into awareness when small hands cup his stubbled cheeks.

"Thor. Brother, calm down." Little Loki says, stepping in Thor's direct line of vision, looking so sharp in Thor's stormy eyes. The grassy green and the black rim of his robes a vibrant contrast to his pale skin, just like his eyes and short black hair, his rosy cheeks full of life and health. "I'm here, Thor. I'll always be here." he is coming closer, not heeding the Avengers a single thought in their attempt to call him away from the eye of the storm. "I won't leave you again." Loki murmurs against Thor's ear, standing between his kneeling legs and curling a thin arm around his brother's tensed shoulders. "Come back to me, Thor; I came back for you. It is only fitting to do the same, don't you think."

Thor can feel the current abate as he raises his still crackling hands to hold Loki's little frame, but he stills them over his back, afraid of hurting him.

"You won't hurt me." Loki murmurs, leaving a small kiss on Thor's cheek, making him leave out a shaky breath -still knowing him better than Thor knows his own self. "You could never hurt me." and Thor lets his hands warily touch Loki's small back, still hesitating. 

Loki curls the fingers of his other hand into Thor's short tresses, running them soothingly through them and scratching his nails on his scalp.

"Come on, Thor, remember how I was the only one who could come near you and hold you each time? Let me reach out to you this time, too."

Thor grunts at the back of his throat, still unable to talk, still feeling the electricity pumping in his blood, but Thor's vision is starting to clear, colors returning back to their duller, natural version and he can feel his mind easing back too, calming down, stop circling in devastating thoughts.

"Your little sparks can't hurt me, Thunderer." Loki snarks and he sounds so much like he did a year ago that Thor wants to laugh and cry at the same time. But what leaves his mouth is another wet sob as he finally presses his hands on his brother's back. "That's it. Hold on to me. I'll never let you go."

Thor sniffles and curls his arms around Loki's little form, crushing him against his chest. He then hides his face into the crook of Loki's neck and inhales his unique scent- his scent that reminds Thor of home and family and everything that is (was) good in Thor's life.

"Don't you cry any more my Golden King, for the sun is shining upon us again." Loki keeps talking and talking and running his fingers through Thor's hair, making the storm subside and the blue return to the sky and Thor's eye. Telling him that everything is alright, everything is good now, he isn't alone anymore, he was never alone. Promising Thor of better days.

Thor believes him.

Everything will be okay, because he has Loki by his side again and, finally, like he had promised, the sun is shining upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey! If you liked it leave me a comment!  
> Also, title of the story might change so a heads up! Thank you and see you soon.


	2. This World You've Built

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Your feedback on the first chapter was astounding!! Thank you!  
> This is more of an interlude, it is also not a new chapter as it has been posted as the 2nd part, but deciding to turn this into a chaptered fic and not a series I am adding it here for those of you who were unaware.  
> I hope you will like it just as much.

Loki is beyond exhausted. His body feels battered and bruised, led to a debilitation so great he cannot find the will to open his eyes, furthermore to change position as to ease the crick in his neck. He simply lies there in his soft bed of grass and can feel the rays of the sun warming up his usually cold skin while there is an assortment of birds singing above him-wait, why are there birds chirping happily? There are no birds in space and surely enough there are no birds singing and following after Thanos's path, death and destruction spread after his every tread.

Loki takes in a panicked breath upon remembering - Ragnarok, Thor, the Statesman making its slow progress towards Midgard and then - Loki has to take another breath, as deep as he can, expecting to feel the constricting of his neck, hear his bones grinding and cracking at his attempt - but he _can_ , he can breathe freely, even if a little stuttery, but the fact is there: warm air is filling his lungs. His heart is beating rabbit-quick in his chest and he forces his eyes to crack open, take a look around. He's in a forest clearing, the wood around him dense and dark and it sparks something in the very depths of his mind (it's a long forgotten memory, fuzzy and faded on the edges, of running through these very trees, laughter breezing in from around him as he tried to find and tag the source, yelling and screaming in delight, feeling _free_ and _happy_ ).

There is mist clouding his eyes and Loki smiles tremblingly at the memory, swiping at his eyes, taking it all in. 

He cannot believe he made it. 

Oh, Thor will be livid at him. Making him mourn falsely again -at least, Loki hopes he will; hopes his brother will survive and want to have Loki back at his side.

(Hope, such a deep emotion, that is. Taking root into your heart like some kind of perennial weed; unwanted and hard to get rid of. Loki despises it.)

He allows himself to relax back on the grass, tiny smile stretching his lips for he's got one more chance and he can't wait to one day see him again, gold and brilliant and strong like ever, smiling that bright grin of his, warming Loki up from the inside.

The birds' chirping comes to sudden halt, the soft breeze stops flowing in the air and of course, Loki should have seen this coming, he should have known he cannot truly repose and replenish his powers and body, for Loki has made a lot of enemies in his lifetime and especially the last few years and it is meant for someone of them to find him even here, in the safest place of his memories. He watches as the sky darkens; thick, almost black clouds hiding the sun. Loki groans. He wants just a moment, just a small reprieve to at least be able to stand on his own two feet - as it is he can only rise to his knees and he won't kneel for anyone, never will. 

There is a shadow manifesting in an opening of the dense shrubbery. It looks like smoke, black churning smoke that coils into the atmosphere and curls over the grass and dirt towards Loki's prone form. Loki doesn't have the strength to talk, to blast magic at it, only to watch, knelt as he is on the grass while the thing approaches. The smile has vanished from his face and he won't smirk, his lips refusing his command. His fingers twitch at his sides but there is not even a spark of magic left in him - used to the last drop for his last stand.

"I am in possession of nothing you might want." Loki thinks, watching as the shadow takes form right in front of him; It has the shape of a human, tall and towering over Loki, but its characteristics are pure smoke, darkening with every second that passes -the forest surrounding them darkening like It draws its power from the place, from Loki's very mind.

It doesn't reply, doesn't show any sign of reaction, merely floating over him. Its head is surrounded by what one may be as foolish as to call hair, coiling around in the air, reminding Loki of snakes ready to attack him with their venom and its form is fuzzy on the edges, indistinguishable where it ends or where it starts. It looks like the wind and like the clouds, like one of Thor's tornadoes; Loki finds it fitting he should meet his end by something vaguely reminding him of his brother.

All around them gets darker and darker still, until it's only shadows. The bright days of Loki's memories fading, being absorbed into the thing.

Loki's vision tilts; white highlighting the edges and his breath is constricted. He feels like he is drowning, like Thanos has his massive, overripe grape of a hand around his neck and he cannot breathe. He is panicking, but he cannot move, cannot take his eyes from It. This was not part of his plan.

When the world is almost as black as a moonless, starless night and even more than that, the thing raises what could be his hands and holds Loki's face in his fluttering, twirling grasp. Loki is to the fringe of passing out. His head is killing him, feels like the thing's tendrils are reaching into his brain.

It takes a minute, it takes ten. It's a year, a decade, a century, a lifetime later. 

The forest bursts into light first, then the thing does and Loki falls on his back, listening to his own voice before he finally passes out.

"You are safe now." 

 

* * *

 

There is a boy. 

Loki is cautious at first. He looks the same age as him, possibly a couple years older, but they are mostly of same height. He takes in his light clothes; his short trousers and his white tunic with the blue and red rimmed vest and knows he must be some noble kid from the careful colouring work and the expensive looking material of his clothes, but he cannot recognize him. 

"Who are you?" he asks rudely - Mother would chastise him, but she is not here and this is _their_  secret place, so what is this outsider doing here? How did he even _get_ here?

The boy doesn't answer him, only reaches out his hand, palm up, to Loki and tilts his head with the ridiculous wide-lipped violet hat on - so ill-fitting to the rest of his attire.

Loki watches him, wary and guarded, but there is something about the boy's smile that pushes him into putting his own hand into the other's, let himself be pulled on his feet.

 

* * *

 

(He does not speak, not a single word, merely smiles, always; broad and warm and delightful and Loki wants to bask in its brilliance forever. )

 

* * *

 

Violet is tugging on Loki's arm, signaling for him to be quiet as they tread through the thick shrubbery. Pulling him to kneel beside him behind a bush and pointing to Loki to look through the leaves and branches. Loki gasps lightly, mouth falling open into a little 'o'. 

There, in the middle of a tiny clearing, under the brilliance of the sunrays sneaking through the trees' canopy, stands a snow white stag surrounded by the luminescent light. It looks otherworldly and majestic with its tall, twirling, ivory horns and Loki cannot take his eyes from upon it. His breath is chased away in his awe. Violet laughs beside him and curls their small fingers together and he is the only one who could ever steal Loki's attention from the royal being before them.

They most probably make some kind of sound and the stag stalks off in the forest, both of them try to chase after it if only to steal a last glance, but it is gone forever from their sights.

 

* * *

 

( His laugh is like a melody, booming and flowing even for his boyish age, full of happiness and delight; it warms Loki inside everytime he hears it. It's infectious, Loki finding himself smiling or laughing back each and every time.)

 

* * *

 

They are in a lake, swimming around in their white undergarments, throwing water onto the other and chasing one another into the shallow waters.

Violet's ridiculous hat is for once forgotten on the bank, his hair a wet, messy mop on his head as Loki pushes him into the water. He resurfaces a minute later, laughing like he always does. He grabs Loki from his tiny waist and swirls him around, both giggling all the while. 

 

* * *

 

(His hair reaches to his shoulders and is the stunning colour of gold, reminding Loki of the soft rays of the sun. Loki keeps running his fingers through his silky soft tresses when they are lying on the grass watching the sky and the stars - he finds it comforting for reasons unknown to him.)

 

* * *

 

He doesn't know how much time has passed, he only knows it is the best period of his life; laughing and playing and running around the field with Violet, marveling in the way his long, blond hair billow in the wind as Loki chases him, tries to find his hiding spots.

He faintly remembers Father had tried to keep him away from this place, his stern voice echoing in Loki's ears, but as the days passed that voice became a fading whisper, Loki laughing and giggling and chuckling with Violet, discovering the never ending forest together, hiding inside crooks and crannies, sleeping by the river and on the evergreen fields, making shapes out of the clouds in the sky.

Loki is happy.

 

* * *

 

(His eyes are the most amazing blue Loki has ever seen, electric and deep like the sea. Sometimes, Loki feels like they can reach into his very soul. Sometimes, it is like he is drowning in that gaze.)

 

* * *

 

It is not long after that Loki starts noticing things; how Violet started becoming withdrawn, his electric blue eyes dulling and his demeanor, too, similar to everything around them - Loki the only splash of vibrant colours against the dullness.

"Violet, what's happening?" but Violet doesn't answer - he has never uttered a single word - he simply smiles sadly, forlornly, and shakes his head, taking Loki's little hand and dragging him into another game of chase, making him forget he ever asked.

Until a few days later, when everything is so faded Loki can only make out shapes, Loki so much more vivid he thinks he will burst. Loki feels jittery, like his skin is tingling, a low hum coming from outside the forest getting louder and louder, reverberating through his bones. Violet's face appears before him, his electric blue eyes the only splash of colour on his gentle face, everything else, even his wide-lipped, purple hat fading in the almost shapeless background. The boy smiles, reaching out his hand to Loki, helping him up and when Loki is standing on his feet, Violet takes hold ofhis other hand too, gazing into his eyes with a swirl of emotions on his loving face. 

"V, what-" Loki closes his lips when Violet shushes him gently and then, for the first time, he hears the boy talk. His voice is a shock to Loki's very core.

"You have taken all you need, Loki, now it is time to return back to the one loving you most of all." Violet says, timbre peaceful and smile wide even if a little melancholic. "He needs you."

Loki is speechless. What is Violet saying? He cannot possibly leave here and leave him behind! 

"I won't be left behind for I am merely a memory and forever will be part of your memories now, never again to be buried in the depths of your whirling mind. Only remember this," he gestures all around them, letting go of Loki's hands only for a second, "the place we stumbled upon one day together, never listening to Father's commands for we were his little minxes and it was our duty to go against his rules." Violet smiles brightly and it's like the sun showers everything into light again.

Loki is hit with sudden understanding.

"Now you get it." Thor's memory coos and tightens his hold on Loki's hands. "He misses you more than you can even begin to think, his mind full solely of dark memories and thoughts. You need to remind him how it is to laugh and feel the sun again, similarly to how you did, here."

 They stand on the faded top of a knoll, there is no wind to mess their hair and no sun to blind their eyes as there is no moon and no stars to light their way - time has stopped running, the universe has stopped turning and Loki knows that it truly is time for him to go back.

"You loved this silly hat. Wouldn't let it go until the day you lost it in the stream." Loki murmurs, voice tight with unshed tears, the flood of memories doing nothing to swipe him off his feet. Now everything is clear. Now he must go.

Thor smiles serenely, blue eyes squinting a little and it is the exact mirror of the one Loki remembers. The one waiting for him. He feels a pang of longing hit his chest and it isn't long that, with the decisive tone he always had when stating his plans and beliefs no matter how unfortunate they came out to be or how much of a bad idea, his brother's memory says loud and clear:

"You are free." and everything around them starts humming and swirling, gathering right in the center of Loki's chest. Everything is turning from grey to black and is siphoned into Loki - he feels similar to a black hole, absorbing everything, leaving nothing behind. Loki's form is the only bright thing in this black abyss. 

Thor's smile and brilliant eyes are the last that vanish from sight before Loki takes his first authentic breath in three long years.

A smirk is playing on his lips even before he opens his eyes, listening to the hum calling to him from outside this safe place.

"Thor, I am returned."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previously posted version of this will be left online for a few days and then possibly deleted.  
> Title of the story will change too into Brighter Days.
> 
> Thank you for reading and keeping up with me and my changes of mind, you are the best!
> 
> Come yell at me on on [tumblr](http://theangrykimchi.tumblr.com/) :)


	3. A Step Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed since Thor found Loki, but the grief is still clinging on to him. Loki must do something about it.

A year later the sky is still projecting Thor's inner turmoil, changing from an almost sunny, clear sky to thick gray clouds; so thick and dark it creates the illusion of night even at the peak of day, drizzling unstoppably.

The first four weeks of Loki's return Thor is out like a rock, sleeping almost soundlessly in the enormous bed Tony accommodated for him years ago, agonizing little sounds escaping his trembling lips every once in a while, whimpers that are soothed away by gentle hands and kind words, little promises that put his stressed mind at ease. Loki never leaves his side in the span of that long month, he has taken into sleeping tacked on his brother's large form, calming him down when he starts thrashing in his dreams and the sky outside turns bleak, answering Thor's nervous friends' worried looks and inquiries with the sole truth: Thor has exerted himself and needs to replenish his strength, it might take a couple weeks for him to wake up, but he is perfectly fine.

Loki doesn't need to sleep much, as a God and as someone who had been unconscious for two long year he has all the power he needs to stay awake at his brother's metaphorical bedpost and watch over him, so he spends his time running his hands calmingly over Thor's shoulders, arms and chest, chasing away bad memories and dreams alike, giving promises he knows this time he will keep; _I am here, my beloved brother. I will be here when you wake up. All is good. I am right at your side, my King._

At his luscious words the crease between Thor's eyebrows vanishes, a peaceful expression taking over his features, and the skies outside turn almost blue again. These are the times Loki allows himself to smile and nuzzle on his brother's chest, feeling the safest he has felt in a long many years.

Now, it is a year later and Thor has been awake for the better part of it, looking over and taking care of his de-aged, resurrected brother like a mother hen takes care of her little ones. Loki is taking his new physique and his new self in stride -old self? It's really confusing sometimes, for he has all these memories and phantom aches and mannerisms, but he also feels exactly like how he did when he was young, full of wonder and hope and love.

The rest have a little more trouble with the whole event; they aren't sure if they can really trust Loki this time. Of course they are happy for their friend having his most beloved family member returned back to him and they look forward to the prospect of good weather, but how much of what Loki - the old one, the half-mad villain-gone-hero one - has said is the truth and how much can they trust on his slithery words?

Thor sees none of that; their worries, timidly voiced as they are, falling into deaf ears.

(Tony's only hope this time is that he won't have to rebuild the Tower or else they are relocating to Hawaii and that's final. Actually, they should have probably already done that, but time is for learning from your mistakes and yada yada.)

They continue going to missions, Natasha and Steve taking on most of them in an effort to keep clear from the two Gods' way. Banner is almost ecstatic in his nervous, stressed and jittery way, coming to terms with the Hulk slowly, letting himself get help from people that love him and care about him, learning how to co-exist with him, while Tony takes things more serious for once; going to psychiatric sessions, spending more time with Pepper and teaching young Peter everything he needs to know to survive a world like theirs - full of beings that want to take over the Cosmos – and keep him as far away from the highly possible mastermind as he can - he is avidly keeping Peter away from Loki for he knows that if  the two of them meet the world will turn on its axis and probably explode from their combined mischief and "trolling".

All in all, they keep clear from the brothers, giving them and their own selves the time to come to terms with the new addition in their weird, chosen family of misfits.

Thor is an entirely different chapter though - he is an entirely different book, really - torn between feeling ecstatic, worrying too much and remembering. Forever remembering.

(He is the only one who doesn't go - or is asked to go - into missions, preferring to spend time with his little brother, settled in his skin when they are together than when they are even ten feet apart.)

Even through all this though, all the closeness and the reassurances there are these moments, these tiny little moments when he will be staring at his brother's smiling face as the kid talks a-mile-a-minute - finding almost childlike wonder in the world around them, finally able to explore and find the beauty of the Earth and the human race and, sometimes, mind - and then Thor will blink and see his brother's prone form before him, or he will hear the crunch of Loki's neck as the little one takes a bite from the carrots he is so fond of as of late and Thor will flinch, sparks covering his fingers in an instant while his good eye glazes over with tears.

At moments like these Loki always knows, no matter how much Thor might try to hide his reaction or how small and miniscule of a flinch it was, like a radar perfectly synched with Thor's moods, his intuition something creepy for whomever else has been present at the time.

At moments like these, Loki turns and seeks body contact, usually in the form of long-lasting hugs, in a way to center and bring back his brother from the whirlwind of his mind.

Thor doesn't think he will ever stop remembering the sick crunch or the bloody squelch of the Svartálfr's blade or the determined and sorrowful sight of a falling Prince - the heart-wrenching times his brother died, three times too many for his liking. Always haunting him. Always waiting at the corner of his subconscious to attack him and resolve him into a mess.

So, Thor does what his instinct tells him and that is to never let Loki out of his sight again.

This is how they end up being inseparable. It's an unspoken rule in the Tower that wherever Loki is Thor follows and wherever Thor is Loki will be tucked at his side - the little one obsessing just as much over his brother as the older is with him.

(It's kinda cute, in a creepy, co-depended way, Natasha thinks, how protective they both are.)

They share the same quarters, they take their meals together, they lounge together and they go out together, Thor waiting patiently in the bedroom while Loki is using the bathroom and the other way around, never more than a few feet away from each other, too anxious to let the other out of their sight. They are living in each other's pockets, but even in all its fulfillment and centering it looks like they are currently at a stalemate, for the skies outside are giving away too much of Thor's true feelings and if they are taken into consideration - which they are, especially from the little sorcerer, for they are showing the turmoil taking residence inside his brother - they are worryingly indicating to the existence of an impasse and this just won't do; Thor needs to let go of painful memories and go on, allow himself to truly live again. Leave behind the horror of three years ago.

Loki indulges and allows time to pass like this for the most part of a year. Knowing it will be hard for Thor to come back to his glorious, holy self - Thor has already started looking better, his hair just a little more shiny, his tired complexion just a little bit healthier, but he has a long way to his past glory and Loki _knows_  he will be even more breathtaking this time, even better than before and he can't see the time coming fast enough, for he _needs_  to bask in his older brother's brilliance. His patience has started drying over.

(Loki had always been impatient, easily bored, his genius mind going too fast for the rest of the world to keep up with - this is how he started with the pranks and the jests and the jokes, a sure way to alleviate his growing boredom, inertia never kind to him - and the patience levels when it came to his brother were always running exceptionally low; Thor always being too brash, too headstrong, too out-of-reach, Loki's pranks on him never having the wanted result but for Thor to laugh and brush them off, continuing to keep slightly away, to keep a part of himself concealed from Loki's knowledge and it scraped at Loki's mind to _not know_. It still does, one of the things that haven't changed with his return to factory settings.)

So, when, after a year of being reunited, Thor is still insisting on watching over Loki while the little one sleeps, most times than not dozing off in the lush couch facing the enormous, too-big-for-one-tiny-person bed, Loki has finally had enough; he needs to feel his brother at his side, damn it!

Loki doesn't have the inhibition his past self did, he doesn't have the fear of servants telling on them or their Mother finding them sleeping at each other's beds when they had been instructed they were too old to share a bed or even a room - ordered truly, Odin never was one for well-meaning suggestions. Loki remembers, abstractly, how he hated that, how much he loathed the day each got their own rooms, biting his trembling lips as he watched their belongings being moved while Thor, older by a mere couple years, screamed and begged to have a little more time, just a few more months, " _just another year, Mother, Loki is still afraid of the Thunders, please_." It all was for naught and Loki remembers, again in that detached, dissociated way he remembers everything that has happened, how he never again had a full night's sleep - his mind overworking and his studying and practicing hours dragging into the wee hours of the night without Thor to shut his books gently and lead him to bed for his much needed rest, sleeping close together to their late adolescence, until Thor, mysteriously, started drawing away never, to return to Loki’s side in bed.

This is why Loki's patience is running out. A year is nothing but a quick pass of time for immortals like them, but in this case it feels like it's dragging out, its sole purpose to challenge Loki's willingness to stand back and wait for results to come. He is tired and wants to live for his own the unique tranquility that sleeping with his brother brought for his past self. He wants to make new memories - his _own_  memories - and Thor resisting him even unconsciously is grating on him.

It is one night same like the others when Loki cannot take it a second longer.

He has woken into the middle of the night, jerked into consciousness by a blurry dream - a memory? He isn't sure any more if he is dreaming or remembering things, awaking in much the same way almost every night as of late. Thor is sleeping in the couch, not even lying down the oaf; his elbow is resting on the arm of the sofa, palm cradling his heavy head, looking years older than he should. And Loki is done! Finished with this ridiculous habit of his brother's. Thor needs to rest before he falls into another, longer and self-induced Thorsleep and Loki needs his brother and tonight will be when he will get what he wants.

Loki tuts and throws the covers to the side, the winter air engulfing and welcoming him in its chilly embrace, something that works in annoying him even more because Thor is using only a light throw and between the two of them he most certainly isn't the Frost Giant.

(The tower has a very functioning heating system, but Thor keeps their quarters a little to the chilly side for Loki's comfort. He also thinks Loki doesn't know the real reason behind this act of his, but;  _newsflash Thunderer I am too observant for your own good_! Thor should have known better.)

Loki comes to stand silent before his brother's sleeping form, crossing his arms while he takes a moment to think of the best way to get what he wants. 

He can be demanding and taciturn, put down his foot and not listen to anything Thor might object with, but he knows he wants Thor to truly give in, not only to please his little brother's demands and to not think he can go back to this ugly habit of his after just one night. He wants to make sure Thor will know this couch is to not be used again for anything else than lounging to read a book or two.

Alternatively, Loki can put on his unambiguous innocence and his enormous, pleading, brilliant eyes Thor could never ever resist, one look at him and he will be _doomed_ , Loki is certain of that; he will lure him in, bend Thor to his wishes without his big brother really knowing what hit him. And it will be glorious, Loki is sure of that.

 

* * *

 

Thor is tugged from the hazy confines of sleep by a gentle hand rubbing against the outside of his thigh, the move on the fabric of his sweatpants causing as little a light friction as it can.

"Hmm?" 

"Thor, come on." Loki's boyish voice is whispering, luring him to rack open his eyes. He sees Loki knelt beside his leg, earnest grayish green eyes gazing at him with worry.

"Loki," he grunts with voice hoarse from sleep as he rubs the heel of his palm against the prosthetic eye - so long now and the damned thing still itches. "What is wrong, brother?"

Loki worries the inside of his lips, hands never stalling in their soothing movement. He is adorable and Thor is faulting his tiredness and the wretched hour of the night for the swoon that wants to leave his lips. Really. 

It takes a while for Loki to reply, obviously measuring his words inside that sharp brain of his and Thor doesn't mind, he doesn't object, because every and any moment spent with his precious brother is a blessing and he will take every facsimile of time he can and be grateful for it.

His fingers brush through raven tresses, bangs long enough to fall into brilliant eyes, as he waits for his brother to choose his words. Loki's silver tongue is as quick and smart as ever, bending conversation to his command. He is also as intelligent as ever; learning the ways of the earth, taking in its technology and slangs like it's second nature, adapting to any environment like he always did, his little chameleon. 

Thor is unable to hold back his fond smile as Loki sighs and lets his head rest on Thor's knee. "Come sleep on the bed, the couch isn't made for men like you."

"I don't know, little one," he begins, his fingers smoothing in Loki's dark locks, skirting their way down the small shell of his ear and stroking the back of them over Loki's creamy cheek, "I might crush you in sleep." It is said with a small humorous smile, but it makes Loki's pout become even more pronounced than before.

"You won't squish me! You never did!" he says, indignant and his hand turns into a fist over Thor's leg. "Come now, Thor, surely you remember how we used to sleep together."

Thor does, vividly so. He remembers holding his little brother tight through a storm, running hands appeasingly down the expanse of his lithe back, murmuring calming words in his silky hair.

(He still remembers the last time the two of them slept together through a storm centuries ago, striking still in his mind. They were still adolescents and it looked just like every other night, holding Loki in his sleep in the position both felt more comfortable and safe all those years past, only for the morning to come upon them, dreaded realization of a not-easily-confined matter catching up to him almost too late, making him spring up from his bed and scramble to the baths, praying for Loki to still be asleep and unaware.) 

Now, he is remembering how it felt to wake up disoriented and confused in his bed in Stark's Tower. A young Loki brought from the deepest recesses of his mind and sitting on the bed beside him on his folded legs, brilliant smile on his round face. It was like he had taken a dive down memory lane as he stared at the innocent features, so far from the sharp cheekbones and even sharper smiles, eyes big and full of unabashed love and adoration, not resentment or spite.

Gaze similar to the one he is sporting now, looking up through the dark fan of his eyelashes, waiting for Thor to become mush under his feet.

"Come to bed, brother, I feel terribly lonely without you." The kid says and there is the jolt in Thor's heart. 

Thor is out of responses for minutes on end, gazing down at his brother's unscathed face, assumably so young and oblivious from the terrors of their world. 

(But no, no, Loki is the same, only a little different. He still has his memories, he has lived through all the fear and running and hatred and lies, he is simply...modified, a better version of himself. Or this is what Loki of old has said. Thor doesn't care. He is only happy to have his brother back in any way or form, unharmed and safe.)

"Come here." He whispers, folding in two so he can grab the kid and lift him atop his legs. "What is troubling you, little one?"

Loki sighs, long and sad and so much like before that Thor is rushing through a maze of memories; countless times Loki has made a similar sound, ripping Thor's heart apart, his hands itching to run through his hair and rub down his back, to soothe and calm, but he couldn't show affection, afraid of the danger of revealing his true feelings - his love for his brother quite different from what was appropriate, what Loki would allow.

Now, Loki shuffles closer in Thor's lap, propping his bare feet on the cushions on Thor's right and tucking himself against his brother's torso, his head resting on Thor's shoulder in such an angle that's easy for Thor to gaze at him and take in his varied expressions. He looks sad and tired, lips drawn into a pout and a light frown on his angelic face - Thor might be biased, and he is the first one who would confirm such an accusation, but he has always thought his brother the most beautiful being in the Cosmos and he has met with Light Elves and Vanir people, the most ethereal of all beings, so he thinks this says something for the depth of his favouritism.

Loki keeps his eyes downcast, worrying the hem of Thor's t-shirt with his nimble fingers - so small and yet strong with his powerful seidr.  

"Speak to me." he murmurs, kissing the top of Loki's head, enclosing his arms around his slight form in an embrace. 

(It is moments like this one that he cannot believe how lucky he is, how much Loki loves and cares for him, no matter his past cruel and indifferent words and actions - Thor could weep at the proof of his brother's feelings even if they are what they were meant to be all along, no similarity to Thor's mutant heart - for finding ways to come back to his side, always coming back to each other like a set of persistent lodestones. He knows of course that Thor isn't the only reason Loki did all this; Loki never did something that didn't have some kind of gain for his own self and what better gain than his life and innocence? Still, Thor is grateful, for there was only one possible path to take after Loki's death; that of lunacy.)

Thor strokes up and down Loki's arm, waiting patiently. His lips are resting on the very edge of Loki's hairline, bottom lip touching chilly skin while his nose is buried in his hair, taking easy breaths of Loki's unique, unchanging scent. He could always smell the crisp scent of a snowy morning on him, alongside the everlasting smell of herbs and nature and magic and now he wonders how he could have never made the connection before, for that crisp scent is what makes his brother  _Loki,_ inextricably tied to his very essence.

"It's just..." Loki begins in a halting manner, not unusual for him when he was at that age - a habit he never really got to shake off whenever he wanted to confide something particularly personal to Thor - and Thor knows patience and a listening ear is the only safe path to follow with this - he is fairly sure Loki will not stab him for trying to rush him this time, but he isn't willing to find out tonight.

"I..." He begins again, hiding his face in the warm crook of Thor's neck before mumbling out his worries. Thor straining to hear him. "I have all these memories of a life past and -and I feel like I should be someone else, like I should have stronger emotions from those memories and, running through them, the only thing that ever seemed to calm me down was sleeping beside my older brother," he makes a small pause, looking up at Thor through his eyelashes, cheeks warm and Thor's arms tighten imperceptibly around him. Oh, the little trickster knows his game, alright and Thor is long past the habit letting him fool him, but Loki feels so small in his arms and the need to take care of him is immense, "knowing he could protect me if danger came to pass."

It feels like an anvil dropping on Thor's very heart, squashing it to the ground. Leaving him raw to gaze in an assortment of crude illusions. A savage assortment of the seemingly never-ending circle of loosing and finding his brother. 

"No, no, no _kjære_!" Loki jolts in his arms, scrambling to right himself and grab Thor's face with both of his small hands, "I didn't mean to upset you, brother, not like this." Loki murmurs, stroking his fingers through Thor's beard and short hair while Thor clings tightly to his back.

"I know, I know, sweetheart." Thor whispers, voice straining to come over the lump in his throat. So many mistakes, so many wrongdoings and all of them ending in the worst way possible. "I am so sorry, Loki. So sorry." he says through gritted teeth, a hand cradling Loki's head and his lips pressing to his forehead, trying with all his might to hold back the tears that want to come rushing out. 

 _"You really are the worst, brother."_  it rings clear inside his head, the sight of Loki moments later, crumbled and unmoving, vivid through his mind's eye and the sound coming from his throat is torn out of his very being.

There is something about this last time that holds Thor back, unable to move on, helpless to be drawn back in painful memories, fresh in his mind no matter the pass of three long years. It's such a small span of time yet it still feels like decades, centuries really. And there is something holding him back, it feels like not a single day has passed since Thanos's attack on  _Statesman._

The first time, when Loki fell from the Bifrost, Thor kept holding on to hope, trying to find him, asking Heimdall day after day if there was any sign Loki had made it and one day, there he was, changed, half-mad, _possessed_ , but still alive and breathing. Thor could not have asked for more. 

The second time was an agonizing surprise. Losing him soon after getting him back, after successfully getting him out of prison and so soon after their mother's murder. It was enough. It would never be enough. It was both at the same time. But Thor had somehow found the strength to go on, to fight Malekith and push back the Universe's doom for a while. Maybe it was because Loki was peaceful at his dying moments; writhing in pain, yes, but he had made peace with himself and would go to Valhalla for sure, or this is what Thor had thought for the years it had taken him to find Loki again, acting in place of their father all that time. 

Thor had mourned him, his heart had ripped in two and there was a Loki-shaped intention in him that would never heal, nobody else would fill or replace, but he had continued living, he had even given a chance to the hesitant feelings for Jane to bloom, only for them to wither and die - not what he truly longed for and not what he needed so soon after the loss of his family - getting in a relationship with someone so different was meant to crush and burn from the very start, really.

And then he had found him. Living and breathing and _healthy_. Eyes brilliant and sharp cheeks filled and rosy and Thor was _so fucking thankful._  He was elated, but, afraid of the transparency of his feelings showing on his face, he had lashed out, choosing to clutch at the anger he felt for Loki deceiving him in the cruelest of ways and so close to losing the control of his bubbling emotions, fingers itching to grab at Loki's robes - the brightest colour he had ever worn - and hold him in place just to be certain he wasn't an illusion. 

Again, only to spend a brief time with him on earth before losing him again and finding him on Sakaar. Lighter and chipper than ever. Safe and unscathed, lying and charming his way to that loony’s good graces - if Thor could move he would have burned that incorrigible flirt to the ground for making eyes at Loki.

That time Thor didn't have the chance to even comprehend what was happening, not even a second of respite to think of Loki falling from the Bifrost _again_ , furthermore to mourn him. So, Thor never really counted this as one of the _Loki Dying_ collection of memories. And Thor would be happy to let the collection there, never to add another moment.

But no, Loki had to go and die yet another time. 

In the most savage and undeserving of deaths.

(Third time lucky, humans use to say. Third time tragic, Thor thinks.) 

Thor almost wishes for the chance of killing Thanos again, and again, and again in a million arsenal of ways. Wishes for the sick crunch of the Stormbreaker cutting clean through his neck, blood gurgling and eyes looking at him as the life seeps out. Thor almost wishes for the chance to burn him to a crisp, lightning rushing through his veins singing its siren's song for unending vengeance. Thor wants to curl his hands around his neck and squeeze, tight, tight, _oh, so tight_ until Thanos's windpipe breaks, crunch rivaling this of Loki's slender, unblemished neck and echoing through the vast planes of the galaxies. He wants- he wants-

"Thor! Shh, Thor, it's okay. It's okay. I am here. I am safe. Shh,  _kjære,_ shh _._ " Loki's voice. Loki's beloved voice, slithering and ethereal. Forever successful in dragging Thor back, away from the dark recesses of his mind; the only thing that ever could achieve that.

"Loki." A sob, a cry, fingers clenching on Loki's light sleepwear. Loki's arms tight around his neck, pulling him in, hiding his brother's face in his neck and Thor inhales. Lungful after lungful of Loki's centering scent. It's an anchor, pulling him back, holding him in place from drifting away in the waves of his grief, grounding him. And then there are words, contrite and sorrowful, rushing through his mouth like a dam has being broken. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for being incompetent. For failing you most of all. The one I care most about. I couldn't keep you safe, couldn't save you. Failing to understand, to hear when you screamed at me to save you. I am sorry for leaving you all alone, for dragging you in danger time and time again. I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

It feels like pressure is leaving his chest with every watery word that leaves his lips. The load residing in his heart getting lighter, little by little. 

"I know, Thor." Loki whispers, but doesn't try to stop the flood of confined emotions. Thor whishes he would stab him, or make some sort of joke, this way he would be able to suck the rest in, never to be mentioned of again. 

(This is what they always did, since they were young adolescents learning to hide their emotions and opinions for that was what princes had to do; be immaculate, be unbending to pressure, stand tall and proud in front of their court and people.)

This is what Loki had wanted, back in Sakaar. Talking was never their way of solving things. He wishes he could stop somehow before letting out something incriminating. But he can't. He can't.

"I can't. I can never forgive myself for leaving you all alone, for fighting you, for fucking arresting you and letting you spend years all alone in that cell. For not being by your side when you most needed me. I am so sorry, Loki. So sorry. I love you so much. You- you are my world and I don't know what I would do without you by my side. How could I continue living in a world all alone? In a world without you in it?"

"Thor!"Loki snaps, the tone of his voice so familiar even with the boyish tinge it holds now, and Thor jerks in attention, looking melancholically at his brother. His expression is serious, a reminiscence of before, thin lips tight and eyes almost hard. And Thor is mesmerized by the resemblance - some things never changed apparently. "I know nothing that I will say will make you change your heart, but I can try to alleviate your pain and this is what I have been trying to do for the past months, but you wouldn't let me."

"I'm sorry." Thor cups the side of his neck, letting Loki tug his head forward and rest their foreheads together. His eyes have slipped closed, tears still running sluggishly from his good eye and breath coming in and out tremblingly.

"Let me in, Thor, trust in me to not leave you alone and believe me when I say this, brother, but nothing, and I mean _absolutely_ nothing and no one will be able to separate us ever again."

The chuckle that comes from his lips is closer to a humourless huff as he engulfs Loki in his arms, holding him tight against his chest for minutes on end.

"I believe you and I hereby swear to you, brother, my Loki, that I will die before allowing harm coming to you again." Heterochromatic eyes meet green ones, genuine in this pledge of heart. And Loki smiles, wide and brilliant before knocking and rubbing lightly his forehead on Thor's chin - a move he has never done before, but one that Thor cannot but find lovable.

"I know."

"Come now, it is quite late, you must be tired." 

A dark eyebrow raises high on Loki's face, determined expression settling in alongside it. 

"Only if you relocate to bed. It's big enough for four of us and I won't-"

"Alright."

"-accept no for an answer. Wait, what?" Loki's big eyes widen, evidently ready for meeting resistance.

Thor smiles, brushing a tuft of hair from Loki's face. "I said, alright. You are right, trying to keep even the slightest inch of resistance before your determined self would be futile. I should have learned my lesson a long time ago." his voice turns small towards the end, filled with remorse, but this time he doesn't let it take over. He smiles again and gets up, Loki held securely in his arms as he treads the small distance to the bed. "And you were right, this couch is a vile enemy for men like me." he claims before smirking at Loki and throwing him on the bed.

Loki is delighted, bouncing on the soft mattress and giggling, scrambling to get under the covers and watch happily as Thor takes the other side, ready to shuffle closer and tuck himself on Thor's side instantly.

"Sleep now, little one." Thor murmurs against his hair, letting out a drawn-out sigh at being able to do this. 

And much later, when Loki is peacefully at-sleep against him, little fist tight on Thor's nightshirt, he allows himself to leave a kiss at the top of Loki's head, thanking the Norns for having a second chance and swearing to do better this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was aiming for fluff, I have no idea how I ended up with angst again. lol
> 
> Next chapter is already written and ready for editing so I can truthfully assure you it contains all the fluff!! 
> 
> kjære = dear, beloved, sweetheart 
> 
> And here is a [timeline](http://theangrykimchi.tumblr.com/post/176018492028/brighter-days-timeline/) for this story.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the kudos and love, they make me extremely happy and keep me going <3


	4. Your Smile Casts The World In Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It becomes a habit; Thor waking up in the middle of the night from Loki's evil knees and elbows, only for him to sigh and change their position in one of comfort. Thor couldn't ask for more.

The second night Thor wakes in the middle of it with a knobby knee pressed to his stomach and a thin forearm resting over his face, Thor is reminded of the many nights he had been woken up in much the same way when they were little, Loki being a kicker in his sleep since they were toddlers. 

Now, Thor groans, rubbing a hand over his face before taking in his brother’s form; Loki is sleeping on his back, arms thrown out on each side with one leg straight on the mattress while the other is crooked to the side, poking Thor's ribs. His little mouth is open slightly and his unblemished face peaceful and relaxed in his sleep and Thor can feel a swirl of affection for his adorable little brother bubbling in his chest. 

Thor carefully situates Loki on his side, crossing his brother’s arms over his chest and holding them in place with one of Thor's hands. He hugs his little form close to his broad chest and his other hand comes to rest under Loki's head, cradling him in their sleep like they used to and Thor is smiling as he holds him close to his heart and lets his eyes drift shut, sleep taking him as he remembers how many times he has done this in the past - the position the only one that could keep his brother from tossing and turning in his sleep, giving Thor bruises from his bony appendages to heal in the morn. Thor never thought he would have this again and he is thankful to his Loki for making sure of it.

(It becomes a habit; Thor waking up in the middle of the night from Loki's evil knees and elbows, only for him to sigh and change their position in one of comfort. Thor couldn't ask for more.)

This new routine is doing miracles for Thor’s uneasy mind; he is feeling better with every day that passes by. The lead on his soul getting lighter with every minute spent in Loki's company. The kid is helping him remember things from when they were little, memories from happier times, filled with their mischief as they ran around the castle's grounds, ignoring the servants trying to chastise them and bringing chaos in the form of muddy footprints and dirty with paint and coal hands for the poor maids to clean. They were tiny menaces and not even their King's berating voice could make them stand still, too keen in exploring, in playing and laughing. Only their Mother could, the only other person starring vividly in most of Thor’s memories.

Their Mother who reprimanded them with her barely hidden smile, the way her soft hands cradled their faces, wiping away tears and rubbing thumbs over their cheeks is the strongest memory in Thor's mind, the most important role in their lives. He remembers with melancholy how she looked the first time he took part in an expedition, tears gathering in her eyes that were filled with pride and fear, her gentle hands holding tight onto his already hardened from swords and axes ones. She was reaching on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead, lips leaving a trembling smile on his skin as he laughed and assured her that  _"fear not Mother, I will make you all proud", o_ nly for her to reply they were already proud of him. 

(Sweet, strong Frigga with her mellifluous voice and affectionate eyes. The finest person to have passed from his life. Her absence forever mourned and missed.)

He was fairly young at the time, still not gifted with Mjolnir's cherished power and, even though his fearless exterior, his heart drummed like crazy against his ribcage and his first thought when, after a month's journey, he and the group of hardened warriors came across the cockatrice dragon they were seeking was how thankful he was for Loki being too young to follow them. The sight of the savage beast, angry and spitting fire before his eyes, one he will never in his long life forget. No matter how many dragons and even worse beasts he has killed since that first one. 

They had lost three gallant men that day, but in the end they had successfully brought the beast down to its flank, Thor's double-wielding swords the ones to deliver the fatal blow to the dragon’s heart. The way back a bittersweet journey, spent with singing for their lost friends' brave souls. 

And when, after another long month, they had made their way back through the golden city's gates they were welcomed with cheers and tears. A majestic feast filled with music and tales of their escapade and the warriors and their Prince's vigor and brevity. But the proud smile Loki gifted Thor with was the greatest gift the young warrior could ever ask for.

He had presented him with an array of essential dragon parts when they were alone the next morning; Thor going to find him in his chambers, wanting this to be a more private matter than a show of brotherly affection before their parents and court. Loki had smiled excitedly upon seeing the dragon's teeth, nails and scales. So elated he had even awarded Thor with a quick but tight hug before drawing back, chattering away all the possible ways such a gift could be useful, leaving Thor to watch him with fondness and pleasure.

(Thor had even made sure to take bits of the dragon's wings and their bones, along with the tiny horns arranged on its head for he knew how important of a role they played in a lot of spells.)

Now, Thor is watching him with the exact same look on his face, besotted by the way Loki is grinning broadly at his side, skipping almost in his steps as they walk down Central Park on their way to the zoo.

"And did you know red pandas are native to eastern Himalayas, so they love playing in the snow? It's true too, I watched this video on internet and they are adorable! Having so much fun! I wish I could play with one of them in the snow, but it still hasn't snowed here. I hope it will soon."

Loki looks so taken by the little mammals, filling Thor with facts for the red pandas since the night before when he did a quick search of the Central Park Zoo and its occupants in that strange invention called The Internet. 

He keeps chattering all the way to the zoo's gates and while he waits for Thor to pay for their tickets. Thor denies the cashier's attempt to grant them free entrance - the establishment needs all the funds it can get for the animals and Thor isn't going to ignore that after yesterday's preaching on the subject from Loki. 

Loki is jittery on his feet beside him, waiting patiently for Thor to finish his talk with the cashier and even allows them to take a portrait of themselves in Thor’s Stark mobile before hooking his hand on Thor's sleeve and tugging him forward, informing him all about the first attraction. He lets out delighted chuckles and keeps pointing at the sea lions, filling Thor again with facts and did-you-knows, his impatience to see his newfound favourite animal not successful in diminishing his enthusiasm upon seeing new and strange species.

He even puts up with various strangers that are brave enough to approach them and ask for pictures with Thor - the way he rolls his eyes every time, a familiar memory from their previous time on earth in their search for their Father.

Thor still doesn't truly get the meaning of "a fan" but the awe and admiration on people's faces is something he is fairly used to since he was a little boy, attending to feasts with representatives from other realms, showcasing his advanced warrior training to their eager eyes when they enquired of the crown prince’s progress. 

They take the long way to the red pandas' den and Thor makes sure to take a lot of pictures, captured moments of Loki watching with delight as the animals perform tricks or lounge around, of Loki wiping his face after a harbor seal sprays them with water. He even gets to record a video of Loki imitating a penguin and it is the most shaky thing in existence because Thor cannot stop laughing.

(It becomes his most prized possession if only for capturing Loki’s brilliant grin when he turns to look at his big brother, proud at himself for making him laugh like he hasn’t laughed in a long time – since before his failed first coronation in that backroom with Loki trying to make him relax and admit to having nerves for the upcoming pass over of duties; before everything went so terribly wrong, leading to chaos and destruction.)

The grizzly bears have Thor looking with appreciation, wondering how a beast so royal and big allows to be confined and in what way exactly the humans were able to capture it without wounding it.

The snow monkeys make both of them laugh, their red face with the white fur reminding them of the scholar responsible for their education when they were little. They giggle over how they kept driving him to madness day in and day out, his face turning into the same red of the monkeys'.

They are still laughing when they approach the snow leopards, exchanging memories of moments with that particular scholar, but their laughs turn into awed exclaims upon catching sight of the great felines. They resemble the beasts living at the outskirts of Álfheimr's snowy mountains, co-existing with the Snow Elves as loyal allies, fierce protectors of their terrain and their people, enormous royal beasts that are equally respected as they are feared.

In the next two attractions Loki looks a little absent-minded, still gesturing and giving over knowledge, but it is obvious that the closer they get to the red pandas the more enthusiastic he gets. Thor is smiling at his words and the brilliance of his eyes and he has the Stark-mobile ready to capture the moment Loki's eyes will fall to the adorable little creatures. And it is his best decision yet, for when they get near the fence Loki's eyes fly wide open, excitement so great little gold-green sparks fly from his fingers.

"Brother." Thor calls out to him, gently. A broad hand coming to cup the back of Loki's neck when his form starts frizzling from view - he loves seeing Loki so happy, but he can live without him causing an accident in New York's Zoo because he lost the grip of his immense powers.

"Yes, yes, I apologize." Loki murmurs, not even turning to glance at Thor, his eyes captured by the animals playing around in their factored terrain. 

It is minutes later when it happens and Thor will forever blame his short-sightedness on matters that regard Loki for not seeing what would happen next. Really, he should have known better.

Thor is standing before the fence, watching Loki more than the red pandas because Loki is smiling, broadly and unbidden as he keeps walking the distance of the tall railing and back again, making little sounds at the back of his throat that Thor has never heard again, when, in the blink of an eye, Loki vanishes from sight. Thor is instantly alert, Stormbreaker humming under his fingers, covered as an umbrella. His heart is drumming like timbals of war in his chest as he looks all around him for Loki and the potential threat. 

But really, he shouldn't have worried, because Loki has simply teleported  _inside the fence to play with the animals. Of course!_

(At this moment, Thor gets a clear sample of their own medicine; the times they have done just the same to their caretakers and Mother since they were very young, too many to count - Loki had showcased the depth of his powers by mastering the act of teleporting when he was seven, driving everyone crazy with worry at his sudden bouts of disappearance.)

"Loki!" he hisses, going near the fence and gripping the rail, trying and failing in not gathering attention on them, considering as all eyes are already turned to the easily recognized God of Thunder. "Brother, come here right this instant!"

It has the same result as talking to a wall would.

Thor sighs and wants to hang his head, but also doesn't want to miss even a second of their playfulness, so he starts recording the moment.

Loki is rolling in the artificial snow with one of the small creatures, giggling and ignoring completely his brother.  He swaps between sprawling on the ground and jumping up, throwing his hands in the air as he imitates the red pandas and, even though he is too far away for Thor to listen clearly, he is sure he is making that weird sound at the back of his throat again.

Thor starts smiling at the image of his brother so happy and carefree and he pushes back the sad feeling that starts to take over his heart when he tries to remember the last time he has seen his brother like this. He won't allow it today, not when he has already decided that this is their start of a new beginning, his second chance in making everything right.

Loki is running his hands through the animal's thick fur when Thor hears the clearing of a throat behind him and, when he turns, he sees a stern looking woman; her blond hair are held back in a tight plait and her raised eyebrow speaks of such heights of disapproval that Thor would need the better half of a year to climb a mountain as tall.

"Is that kid yours, Mr. Odinson?" She asks, making it obvious that, yes, she has heard of him and no, she won't make an exception because of him. Thor has met people like her before, people unwilling to bend to his demands and as few as they were they still existed to let Thor know he couldn't have everything he might want.

He adopts his most charming smile anyway. Nobody would ever accuse him of not ever trying.

"Not my kid, but yes, he is here with me, madam. . .?"

"Morris. I am the Zoo's manager." she says, her tone clipping.

"So nice to make your acquaintance, Madam Morris."

She furrows her eyebrows, clearly troubled from his manners before replying, "I wish I could say the same, Mr. Odinson, but instead, I am here to ask you to get the kid away from the animals. It is against the rules for visitors to come inside the animals' pens or make contact with them."

"I understand, Miss, but you see it is his first time seeing such well-kept and friendly animals and he is very exc-"

"I do not care, sir! I want that kid out of there right this instant. The only reason security hasn't already tried dragging him out is because we saw him in your company, but don't push it."

Thor keeps nodding, serious expression in his face, while she talks, showing her all the respect she deserves, but he also knows that if Loki doesn't want to come out he simply won't, no matter what they might try. 

"And I am thankful for that. I will see what I can do." He says, smiling before turning towards Loki and calling out to him, only to be ignored again. He clears his throat, slightly embarrassed before trying again.

“Brother!”

(Thor is wiser than using Loki’s name in the company of so many people, not knowing if they are aware of his identity and his role in the alien invasion of a few years ago.)

"What is it, Thor?" Loki asks, glancing at Thor briefly. 

"This lovely lady here wants you to come out of there, brother." Flattery is good. Flattery grants you things. Flattery gets you and your brother out of trouble when said brother is into one of his mischievous moods. Maybe this time it will too.

Nope. Morris's eyes have hardened even more. 

"I don't want to, Thor." Loki affirms and, really, that’s that.  Thor knows from experience there is nothing he can do to change his mind.

"Sir, get your brother out of there or we are going in." She threatens and, okay, she has all the right in the world to, but there is this little flaw she isn’t even aware of: Thor never had the best reaction at being threatened and he is also very protective of his brother - the thought of those strangers touching his brother has his blood start boiling.

It really is an effort to hold back.

Thor bares his teeth in a smirk, gesturing with one hand to his brother and the cage, welcoming them to even try.

"I want to see you try." he says, surprised at how calm it comes and she has the decency to look taken aback even as she speaks to her earpiece and lets the security go into the pen, scaring the animals scrambling to their little homes.

Loki has the _audacity_  to let out a surprised gasp and then there are voices and hands trying to grab at him, but the little trickster keeps teleporting away from them, taunting them with words and mocking expressions and Thor knows he shouldn't, but he feels pride swelling in his chest as he smirks, throwing a challenging look at the manager.

A larger group of spectators has gathered meanwhile, recording and taking photos of the event with their phones like it is part of an attraction’s play, laughing and cheering every time Loki fools the guards with one of his doubles. 

"Sir, I demand you put an end to this!" The manager says, her voice trembling with frustration. "This isn't appropriate behaviour in the presence of such a crowd."

Thor shrugs, pointing at the people surrounding them, grinning at her only to be contrary, "I don't know, they seem to me like they are enjoying themselves."

"Sir. . ." Morris snarls under her breath taking a step closer to Thor and he wants to roll his eyes so hard he is sure the prosthetic will roll from its place. Is she seriously trying to intimidate him?

"Look, madam. I'd be glad to get ourselves removed from your hair, but if _he_  isn't going to come out on his own I am not going to-" it is a boyish yell that interrupts him this time and he feels his hair standing on end, because this is Loki's voice and if they dare to harm him. . .  

Thor tries to breathe in and out his nose, deep centering inhales; Loki is okay. Mere humans can do him no harm.

His voice is terribly low when he speaks next.

"Tell your men to back out before it’ll be too late." He won't let anything happen to Loki. He will be damned if he lets him come to harm ever again. 

"You must not be serious." Morris hisses and Thor's eyes have probably turned to pure lightning, because she takes a frightened step back, raising her hands in a placating gesture.

 

* * *

  

In the end, Loki is unharmed - one of the guards had just grabbed a little too tight on his thin arm and Loki, being the little drama-enthusiast he always has been, had acted a little louder than necessary - the Odinsons get banned from the Central Park Zoo for life - which's life isn't stated and with them being Gods the humans managing the zoo will be long dead before them so it isn’t the worst that could have happened - and poor Pepper has to appear in an emergency conference to apologize for their behaviour - as the unspoken PR person for all of the Avengers. 

The Odinsons also become an internet sensation. What that means, Thor has no idea. But it must be fairly good, for Loki is excited, tapping and swiping on Thor's Stark-mobile, insisting they should make an _Instagram_ and a _Facebook_ and maybe a _Twitter_ , but: "Twitter has a word count and I never liked being restricted so maybe not a Twitter. We will see in the future." 

Thor tries to understand him. He really does, he even asks questions, but in the end he is still as lost as ever, saying that Loki should do with this what he thinks is best. 

A few days later Loki and Thor are the joyful owners of a joined account on _Instagram_ and a page on _Facebook_ titled  _"The Brodinsons"_ and it even pays them somehow - having something to do with the count of followers and likes and pictures and moments of their lives and something, something, _something_ \- Thor couldn't care less, but it makes his little brother happy, so he is happy and also tugged along into ‘ _selfies’_ and taking photographs of Loki and - yes, alright, he cannot say that he doesn't enjoy this particular part.

(Tony is elated! He is the first one to " _follow'"_ them and he even helps Loki with deciding which version of a picture is best, the two of them spending more time together the more the days pass.)

Their little "episode" even gets broadcasted to the news worldwide and Thor can really only smile begrudgingly when the dreaded but expected call from Fury comes, but the Avengers seem to enjoy it a little too much - Bucky even gives a light pat on Loki's back, a rare smile on his lips while Steve shakes his head in amusement and Tony mutters something about the Parker kid never meeting with Loki. . .- _what_? 

"What?" Thor asks, perplexed.

Tony sighs and pats him on the arm as he passes by. "Nothing to worry about, Big Guy. I'll make sure it will never happen, 'cause then we will be truly doomed!"

"Don't pay him any mind," Pepper smiles, having just got in the common room and coming to hand him her tablet. "The video Loki posted of him acting as a penguin has gone viral!" She exclaims, clapping her hands together and then turning to caress Loki's cheek affectionately.

(It is a little baffling how the Avengers have started to warm up to Loki, some of them even seeking contact. He slowly becomes one of them and Thor is elated to see their acceptance of his most precious being in the universe.)

Only when she moves away, taking off her heels and flopping in the couch beside Bruce and Natasha, does Thor lean towards Loki - who is already standing at a few inches taller than a couple days ago - to ask him what does 'viral' mean.

Loki simply smiles lightly at Thor, getting on his tip toes to rub his forehead against Thor's chin. "It means we are going to become rich in human money."

Thor laughs, finding the thought hilarious.

 

* * *

 

It becomes obvious after a few more days that Loki has adopted some new mannerisms somewhere along the way.

For instance, he has become even more attached than before, making Thor carry him almost everywhere, sitting on his forearm or on his shoulders, using his brother like his most trusted steed - Thor is only happy to oblige. Loki is hyperaware of everything, senses keen in recognizing barely-there sounds and smells and Thor cannot forget the strange knocking and rubbing Loki does with his forehead on any part of Thor's body that is closer at the time or the rumbling sound coming from his throat on various moments of the day. As endearing as it is, it's strange and new and Thor can only wonder where it came from.

Thor tries to remember if Loki had ever acted like this at some point in their long past, but he comes up short. The mannerisms unknown in their newness. It's almost like looking at an entirely different person.

So, he thinks over it and after two weeks decides to breach the subject one Saturday morning while they are taking their breakfast in the kitchen. The Tower is thankfully deserted as Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Sam are on a mission somewhere in Russia, Tony is either still sleeping or still hasn't slept and is in one of his laboratories, Bruce is to his room meditating and Pepper is somewhere doing what it is that Pepper does in her free time. 

They have the entirety of the common floor to their disposal and Loki is still half-asleep, a condition that Thor knows from their past leaves Loki vulnerable to spontaneously asked questions; his quick-fused mind not thinking as fast as when he is fully awake, making him answer truthfully or _almost_  truthfully.

(A lot of Thor's precious memories have Loki starring in them just woken up and immaculate as ever, but with heavy-lidded eyes, threatening to land into his porridge while they took their breakfast with Mother and Father.)

Thor readies their food and juices, yawning from time to time as he pads barefoot on the thick carpet, glad for the room's warm difference from their chambers chilly air as he looks out at the skies while he waits for the pancakes to fry. Loki on the table behind him is already dressed up for the day in a rare pair of jeans and a thin hoodie, he is almost dozing off as he occupies himself with the updates of their social media. 

They are taking their breakfast in easy silence, neither ready to begin the day just yet, when that strange sound starts resonating in the quiet between them. 

It's a light rumble, starting at the base of Loki’s throat, too quiet to get noticed in a room full of people, but still loud for Thor's trained ears. It counter-causes a happy flutter in Thor's stomach and a pleasured smile each time, emotions similar to the ones he got every time he got praised when he was younger and Thor is making the question before running it over his mind.

"What is that sound? You know the one you are making right now, brother?"

Loki is, like expected, taken by surprise, the sound immediately cutting off. His pale cheeks turn a rosy colour and he keeps his eyes on his bowl of cereal as he answers.

"I don't know." he murmurs, obviously embarrassed by the fact and hopping Thor won't notice.

But Thor does and runs a hand through Loki's hair, cupping his neck and leaving his thumb to rest on his brother's chin, rubbing gentle circles on the smooth skin. He waits for Loki to elaborate, but he looks unwilling to do so, so Thor continues, keeping his voice gentle and kind.

"I have noticed it happening in various moments of the day, brother," he says, still caressing Loki's skin, "and it is quite endearing, I must say, as strange as it might be."

Loki's eyes finally meet his, shyly; the gray of his irises taking over the green in answer to the gray day outside and the black of his hoodie. 

"Really?" asks Loki, nervously biting the inside of his lips, looking for his brother's approval. 

"Aye." Thor's lips crook in a smile, leaning forward to knock his forehead on Loki's. It's a move happening in pure instinct, for Thor senses it might be what will assure Loki of Thor's acceptance. And it does. Loki's eyes drift closed, the purring sound starting up again as he rubs his forehead against Thor's.

Thor is so taken he nearly misses Loki's next words, low as they are.

"I feel content." Loki admits, drawing back in his seat to continue eating.

"Content?" asks Thor, the pleasured flutter in his stomach taking over everything else. 

"Yes, brother."

"And when you feel content you want to purr?"

Loki shrugs. "I guess." He looks unwilling to elaborate and Thor chastises himself to be patient and give a little time to the little one, so he withdraws his hand from Loki's neck and returns to his stack of pancakes, watching with the edge of his eye as Loki puckers his lips in thought.

"Thor." Loki calls after a few minutes of contemplation, pushing his sweet flakes around in the bowl of milk, not lifting his eyes to look at Thor even as the other hums in reply.

"I've been wondering for my heritage as of late and,” he starts, words bumbling out of his mouth in quick succession, showing his discomfort, “as we were never schooled in depth over the Jötnar and their traditions or habits or anything else really, outside their savage nature in battle and how a simple touch from them could give us frostbite, I decided to do a more extensive search and. . ." Loki trails off, keeping his eyes averted, again nibbling on his lip.

There is another long pause, attracting Thor's interest with every minute that passes by for what his brother finds so difficult to say. He was never a patient man and he has already exceeded his limits for today, but he keeps quiet, giving Loki his much needed time.

It is right when Thor lifts his mug to his lips that the little shit deems the perfect moment to say what it is that troubles him. "Did you know that as a Jötunn I have both?"

"Both?" Thor inquires, pausing to take a big sip of his beverage.

"A cock and a cunt." Loki says, deadpan like a bilgesnipe. He even has the gall to roll his brilliant eyes as his brother starts choking, specks of his dark coffee falling on the tabletop in his try to take a proper breath.  "I didn't have you for a prude, Thor." Taunts Loki, smirk curling his lips.

"What?" Thor croaks, still trying to wrap his mind around this newfound - unasked for as it is - knowledge. "What do you mean you- you have both? How is that even possible?" Thor hisses in baffled surprise, looking with wide eyes at Loki.

Loki sighs, long and drawn-out at the prospect of having to explain, but meets Thor's eyes head-on. "It means that, when I am a Jötunn, at the place my testicles should be I- "

"This is not what I meant!" Thor splutters to interrupt him, snapping a quick hand over Loki's mouth and ignoring his angry looks. "I do not want you to describe it - only if you feel you must, then you will have my ear to your disposal - what I meant is that, that. . .aha-haha. . . _haa_ " Thor leaves out a breathless, embarrassed laugh and then sighs, withdrawing his hand, "How is it possible you didn't know of something like _that_? Didn't you have memories on the matter?"

"No, I've never. . . I just. . ." Loki pouts, little mouth pinching in displeasure for his past self. "I remember that I never accepted my true form and resisted any curious thoughts that came to mind regarding my anatomy, so I wasn't sure until a few days ago when curiosity took the best of me." he huffs, rolling his eyes again, at his own self this time. 

"You've never turned into a Jötunn?"

"I mean, I did that one time I confronted Father and when I had to freeze Heimdall," at that Thor frowns, remembering Heimdall informing him of the events preceding his return to Asgard," but since then I tried to avoid it all together." 

"What had your mind changing?" he asks, keeping back from caressing Loki's cheek in reassurance.

(He is way too tactile with him lately; reaching out to seek contact easily becoming a habit and the familiar fear of uncovering his feelings is coming back to him with every moment spent in Loki’s bewitching company.)

"It's who I am and while I have all my memories and my power is slowly - annoyingly so - returning to me," Thor chuckles at his petulant little growl, " I don't have this acerbity inside me anymore and I. . . I think it easier to embrace a few things."

Loki sighs and gets up from his seat to come and push lightly at Thor to make way for him. Thor, instead, gets up and lifts him in an embrace, taking him the short distance to the living room and flopping on the couch, letting Loki's form sprawl over him, predicting the coming of a rare confiding moment - which is good, for he has a few questions he'd like getting answers to and this is the best moment to ask them.   

Loki situates himself in a comfortable position, half on the couch and half on Thor's chest, hugging Thor's tummy with an arm and resting his ear over Thor's heart. 

"I was ready to do so before, but I didn't have enough time." He starts, careful in his wording at the mention of his most recent death. "Especially when I knew Father truly saw me as his son and that you wouldn't turn your back at me." his brilliant greens meet Thor's, chin digging in Thor's sternum and small smile playing on his lips. "Or will you, brother?" he challenges, smirk reminding Thor so much of his older self that he can't help but grin and grab him into a fierce hug. 

"I will never turn my back on you, kjære. Jötunn or Aesir, you are the most precious person in my life." The purring starts up again as Loki smiles, resting his head back onto Thor. "In addition I wouldn't trust you not to stab me if I turned my back." 

A fake, indignant sound escapes Loki's lips, "I would _never!"_ And it's filled with too much laughter to be taken seriously but Thor allows the subject to drop, this not being the right moment for that particular discussion.

"Alright." He says, "now allow me to ask you some things." at Loki's light nod he starts, letting his broad hand rub down the expanse of Loki's back. "I've noticed that you grow up faster than we did when we were kids and faster even from Midgard's children, too. Care to explain?"

Loki hums and snaps his fingers, a tiny green swirl appearing above his palm.

"When I did the spell it allowed me to salvage a portion of my essence somewhere onto you," Thor makes a startled noise at that, "until you made it on Earth and it could find a place to safely incubate and spawn me back to life." he snaps his fingers again and the swirl turns into a tiny figure, a clone of himself lying on a slab of rock.

"You were on me through the explosion of the ship and the creation of Stormbreaker?" Thor asks bewildered. One wrong move, one second too late, a tiny thing going the wrong way and they both would have been lost into space or burned under the force of the dying star.

"A part of my essence" Loki corrects, "and yes, I guess we are only lucky you are headstrong and not giving up easily." Loki shrugs, grinning sharply. "Back to my explanation." He says with little patience and flicks his fingers again.

This time the figure is standing, a tiny gold dot right in the center of its chest.

"When you found me I guess I looked like I did when we were at, say, the age of ten? Eleven?" Thor nods quickly, watching with keen eyes as the dot gets bigger in size with every second that ticks by. "This is because of how much my essence had grown in the span of two years."

The figure gets bigger and bigger still with every complete swirl of the dot.

"With the come of every day, my power gets stronger and I, in extension, get older so I will be capable to sustain it. With the pace it is returning to me I estimate that I will be back to my full potential and demeanor in approximately ten years."   
  
"A reasonable tread of time." Thor agrees, torn between wanting to saviour this extraordinary opportunity and wanting to have his brother fully back to his older self.

"Mmhm", Loki agrees, swiping his hand through the air and vanishing the illusion, "I still do not know the frequency with which I grow, for one day the essence restored is close to none and the next I have a small growth spurt, so it is highly possible I have deviated in my calculations and it will happen sooner than later. Yet, the only way to know is to wait and see." 

Thor hums, kissing the top of Loki's head. "We will see."

Loki strokes his chin against Thor's red henley and takes a deep inhale of his staticy, earthy scent. Taking minutes to relax and bask in Thor's warmth, before saying what he feels he has to say next. Something that will evidently upset Thor.

"At this point, I want to inform you that when I did the spell it was a great gamble." Loki says, laughing delightedly at Thor's little growl. As expected.

"What do you mean, Loki?" Thor whispers suspiciously, dreading his brother’s answer.

Loki springs to his feet, lithe as ever, and opens his arms in a grand gesture. 

"I wasn't entirely sure of what it would happen when I did the spell!" He laughs, a little maniacally, reminding Thor of his past self and this should be wrong, but is the most right thing Thor has ever seen, suddenly. 

(It's Loki. His brother is the chaos and the mania. The pseudo-calmness before the storm and the fabricated safety of a well-covered trap, tightly twisted alongside his brother's intelligence and loyalty, his love and kindness, that Thor could never tell apart the one from the other. His brother is all that and more and Thor loves him for this. Dreading and anticipating the all-consuming force of Loki’s fascinating kind of madness like an old lover that will embrace him and bring him back home.)

Thor is delighted, yet the dread of the  _what-ifs_ consuming his mind result in him leaning forward, tightening his fists to hold the tiny sparks back. He takes a minute to breathe, still his voice comes out as an angry rumble.

"And what if I had died somewhere along the way, Loki?" his teeth grit together, "During the battle with Thanos.What would you have done then?"

Loki chuckles again, steering to stand between Thor's knees. Long fingers caress Thor's chin, lifting his head to look directly into the mischievous glint of Loki's eyes. 

"I wouldn't have existed, for I was residing in your heart." Loki's palm rests over the place on Thor's chest, seidr pulsing through their contact, reaching directly into Thor's heart, the sensation calming him down. "Should you have died facing Thanos, I would have followed you to Valhalla, for there is no you without me and no me without you."

Thor's breath is chased away, lost in the certainty of Loki's eyes, and gets knocked out of his chest when Loki inclines forward, his soft lips brushing Thor's in a smooth brush.

"I've told you before; never doubt that I love you, brother."  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyaa~ I am sorry for taking longer to update than I meant to but I never post anything without my two kind-of betas and eternal cheerleaders reading it first and this time it took a little longer for them to come around and actually read it. Anyway I love them and owe so much to them for pulling me back into writing again so I forgive them.¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I do hope you liked it, though. I certainly had a lot of fun writing something lighthearted for once. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated and loved. Mostly loved. And appreciated. 
> 
> P.S.: Chapter 1 now has a [русский ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7101485/) translation thanks to the lovely [julsobol](https://julsobol.tumblr.com/)! Thank you so much, darling <3
> 
> Edit: watch this video of red pandas [ playing in the snow ](https://youtu.be/ERwHvwsGFoE/)! It is absolutely adorable and I forgot to post it along with the chapter orz


	5. Supernannies Assemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is three months after the zoo incident that Thor’s assistance in a mission is required and the Avengers are called to Loki-sit for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Min skatt_ = my treasure

"Do you want to see?" Loki asks out of the blue that night as Thor returns barefoot from the bathroom, already clad in his pajama pants. Thor freezes, hand holding the towel staying still on his short tresses, mind reeling to a terrified halt - he can even hear it screech as it does so.

A lump has formed in his throat and he tries once, twice for it to go down. He coughs lightly, keeping his eye on a very interesting and very marvelous spot on the bed’s comforter - its industrialized craftsmanship is a thing of wonder, not really - not daring to even glance momentarily at his _very_ young, _very_ de-aged brother that is currently propositioning him to. . . "See what exactly?"

Thor’s voice comes out in a terrified mix between a whine and a choke, causing Loki to huff, flush, roll his eyes _and_ glare at his brother. All at the same time. It is an astounding feat, really, one that Thor has only ever seen Loki managing, for _he_ can only reach the levels of indignation and sarcasm this team of expressions require.

" _I can't believe how much of a pervert **you are** , **Thor**!" _ Thor has the exact image of Loki’s exasperated voice in side-leaning cursive writing, bold letters and all that included, flashing in his mind’s eye.

(It’s as if looking upon one of the millennia of notes he had delivered to him every other day in the span of their lives, consisting of mellower ones similar to _“Well done, **Thor!** ” _or more specific ones much the same as _“Bringing a half-dead bilgesnipe in the palace’s grounds; **how very smart of you,** **Thor!** ” _

He also can never neglect the _“I thought even you wouldn’t fall so low, but, **of course, you did, Thor!** ” _one _._

And, of course, the one out of many insulting his intelligence; _“The brain is a very useful muscle; **I suggest you learn how to use it,** **Thor!** ” _

But his all time favourite must have been the one regarding that easily forgettable maiden; _“It was an **excruciatingly painful** experience watching you trying to woo that maiden, **Thor!** ”_

Thor had every and each one of those sassy little notes, scribbled painstakingly on pieces of scroll as they were, carefully tacked in an engraved wooden box at the bottom of one of his chests back in Asgard. He guesses it is one of the many things that are forever lost to him now.)

"No! No, Loki that wasn't what- it _isn't_ what- _Loki! No!_ I don't want to see!" Thor huffs, trying to calm down the terror that’s getting to new levels at what his little brother suggested. "Not until you are much, much, _much_ older, at least."

An eyebrow has risen high on Loki's face while he watches Thor stumble over his words, trying hard to hold back his mischievous smirk.

"Really, Loki, I- I-" Thor tries, he really does, but words do not seem to want to come forward. His little brother, the love of his life thinking that he- that Thor would- that he- _what?_ What is it that Loki is thinking of his older brother?

Thor wants to scream. He wishes for Loki’s power to come back quickly and turn him into his older counterpart and for things to be easier and not so utterly confusing because he is sure he cannot take another minute of _wanting_ and _unconditionally_ _loving_ older Loki while at the same time he wants to _protect_ and _cherish_ kid Loki and all this is baffling. It makes his head hurt and his heart ache and-

"Woah! Woah, there, Thor! I merely jest, brother! No need to get all emotional over it." Loki cuts in, letting his grin slither onto his lips, a little tight no matter his efforts.

"What?"

“You are so easy to fool, brother dearest.” Loki says, bouncing onto their bed, trying to come to as much of an eye-level as he can with Thor. "I know you, the golden prince, wouldn't think of something like that.” A small hand touches Thor's bearded cheek, brushing smoothing fingers on the wiry hair, trying to sooth his brother. “I meant my true form, nothing perverse, but you are so fun to rile up, brother, as ever."

Thor heaves a long-suffering sigh, rubbing between his eyes and a brief silence follows while Thor takes everything in, willing his impending headache away as a slow grin stretches on his lips, narrowing his eyes. This little minx is back at it again.

"You little trickster." he growls, landing his hands on Loki's sides, lifting him up in the air only to throw him on the bed before kneeling over him and attacking him with quick and deft fingers, tickling his sides and his belly and everywhere he remembers the sorcerer to be ticklish.

Loki is squealing and screaming underneath him, trying to slither away, to find a crack between Thor’s attacks, a mere pause so he can focus and teleport away. But Thor is unforgiving, drumming and beating his fingertips on the soft skin.

His brilliant greens are closed tightly, tears escaping their seal as Thor turns to dragging his nails over the pale flesh, gentle, feather-soft, reducing Loki in a new fit of giggles and screeches and undignified snorts, pleading for mercy.

“You are a little minx, Loki, and minxes have to pay for their silly jibes!” Thor is hissing over Loki’s smooth belly, blowing raspberries on the trembling flesh, causing Loki to scream and try to arch away from his face until, suddenly, a nice chill replaces the warmth of Loki's skin.

Thor pulls a little back, keeping his hands on Loki’s sides, his jaw dropping as his eyes rake over the tiny, sky blue form.

Loki's red, red eyes are open wide in surprise, pupils blown wide and little cobalt mouth falling open too before he successfully scrambles away from Thor. He brings engraved thin hands to cover his little face, curling into himself as he tries and fails to recover his pale visage; too shaken to do so.

When he speaks his voice is trembling, coming muffled behind his palms, "I'm sorry! I-I lost control of the glamour!” It is Thor’s warm hand on his chilled neck that silences him in his haste to apologize, Thor's wonderful blue eyes looking at his crimson ones with nothing but amazement and love, when he tugs, gentle, on Loki’s smaller hands, making Loki feel short of breath.

Thor's fingers drag lightly over Loki's small, ivory horns protruding from inside the raven locks on his forehead, his heritage markings that run down his slim face, chest and arms. His mouth opens in sheer wonder as he makes out the whirls and lines cascading over Loki's light blue skin with the tips of his fingers ending his expedition on Loki's palm, curling his fingers around the small wrist. Marveling at the antithesis of their skin and heat – or lack thereof.

Loki lets out a tiny gasp when Thor brings Loki's hand to his face, kissing the very center of his palm lightly, letting Loki stroke his warm cheek with his chilly fingers.

"You are so beautiful, Loki." Thor whispers, eyes never leaving his brother's. "Thank you for being so kind as to allow me to look upon you while in your born form." His words are formal but laced with sentiment, with affection and acceptance and he wishes he could have done so earlier. Wishes they hadn’t lost so much time in childish animosities.  

Loki lowers his eyes, picking on the comforter with his unoccupied hand as he mutters under his breath, "was but an accident."

"But you wanted me to see." Thor’s voice is gentle, the hand cupping the back of Loki’s neck – so fragile, unblemished and unharmed, so beautiful – tightening imperceptibly.

"Yes, but-" Loki’s lips click shut, eyes still averted.

"But. . .?" Thor prompts.

It takes a few minutes of contemplation for Loki to mutter his reply and another few for Thor to make out his words, but when he finally does Thor is rendered to stare at him in horror.

"What do you mean you were afraid of me?" Thor gasps, surprised and saddened by the fact.

"You once said that Jötnar should learn to fear you and- and. . ." Loki still won't meet his eyes, lips trembling a little at the sudden barrage of emotions.

"No, no, no, * _min skatt_ *." Thor mutters, gathering his brother's small form in his arms, big hands rubbing soothingly at his back and lips leaving  kiss after kiss on the mop of dark hair, mindful of the still tiny, quite sharp horns. "It isn't like that, not anymore. I’ve been a foolish boy, undeserving of my glory. Undeserving of our people’s love and loyalty. Undeserving of _you.”_

(Thor doesn’t allow himself to cry this time, he isn’t deserving of the calm and closure those tears will bring, but he is very close; foolish words and deeds of the past, coming back to haunt him every time he dares to think all the ways he did Loki wrong. It’s a trip full of guilt he will never escape from.)

 _“Norns_ , _Loki._ No! I would never hurt you. _Never_." he declares, tightening his arms around Loki. "I'd never hurt you. Losing you is the last thing I would ever want! I won't let something as meager as race and past hatreds come between us again. You mean the world to me, Loki." Thor's words are watery, tears threatening to fall down his face and stain Loki's black tresses.

The thought of harming Loki again, in any way, is too harsh to bear.

"Don't cry, Thor, please." Loki whispers, lifting his head from Thor's shoulder to look at Thor's eyes that shine a brighter blue than before. "It breaks my heart to see you cry."

Thor huffs an unamused laugh, cradling his brother's face between his hands so he can touch their foreheads.

"Let me tell you this;" he mutters, gazing into crimson eyes. "No one – and I repeat – not a single person, be it Aesir or Jötunn or anything else, will ever take you away from me. I won't let anyone harm you by words or actions ever again. And if anyone shall be as stupid to do so, they will have to answer to me, face my wrath. I swear this to you as your brother and as you King."

Thor’s low baritone is almost a growl, teeth clenching in resonance. Outside, thunder is answering his words and Loki can do little else than stare mesmerized at him, never having expected to see his brother like this – so sure and angry at the mere prospect of Loki being in danger after all he remembers he has done to chase him away.

"Understand?" Thor grunts, making Loki sigh and close his eyes in agreement, pushing his forehead more firmly against Thor's, dragging the base of his horns against his warm skin in love and absolution. The low purring sound starts at the base of his chest, coming from his very core only to rise and get louder so Thor will know - so he will know everything that he means to Loki.

(In a blurred world of loss and change, Thor is the only constant, vivid in his presence in Loki’s life.)

"Thank you, Brother." Loki whispers.

Thor returns the motion, closing his other hand on the other side of Loki's neck along with the first, thumbs rubbing small circles.

They stay like this until their legs fall asleep and they have to lie down. But even then they don't try to untangle themselves, slotting their legs between each other's like they did when they were little. Thor's arm acting as a pillow for Loki's head, his other hand staying on its place on Loki's neck - in that intimate gesture of affection nobody has ever stood at the receiving end of but Loki - and Loki's one arm holding Thor's torso close.

Warmth against chill.

 

* * *

 

Of course Loki is posting under an alias of sorts on Pepper and Natasha's insistence, because they cannot let the people know that Loki is the same brother of Thor's as the one responsible for the almost catastrophic events of New York barely a decade ago - it somehow gotten leaked to the press back then, because _of course it did_ , and people know both Loki's name and his connection to Thor.   
  
(It also helps that, currently, Loki looks nothing like the horned villain and if this isn’t a ray of luck in the midst of all the unluckiness that follows after the Odinsons as of late then Thor doesn’t know how else to call it. Karma, perhaps? Kismet? Thor doesn’t really care, his only worry is for this breath of providence to hold.)  
  
They pass their days adopting a new routine that consists of them spending more and more time with their friends in-between teleporting or flying to various places and cities of the Earth. Loki gets his own mobile - a sudden gift from Tony under the pretense of Loki's need to keep his socials up to date - and their devices quickly fill with pictures of both of them. Some of which Thor makes sure to task Bruce with printing, filling his and Loki's rooms with many framed moments.  
  
His favourite one is of Loki in the Himalayas, smiling broadly and looking away from the camera as he shakes his open palms, like the surrounding pack of red pandas. His hair and green tunic a great contrast to the frosty terrain.  


(It was a great feat to persuade Loki that _no, they could not take them home_ and _no, he could not keep any one of them_. Loki used all means available – yes, even his tear-filled, emerald eyes – but, in the end, Thor had come out on top, his prevail the hardest of his life – it was of the most difficult things resisting Loki’s adorable, pleading eyes. Thor had managed to keep his stance with great difficulty and hardened will. He hopes he will never have to go through this ordeal ever again.)

  
It feels a little more like home that way, reminding him of the large tapestries and paintings adorning the walls and ceilings of Asgard's palace, especially their private rooms.   
  
Day after day, Thor's mind eases and the moments he is jerking in alert or gets drawn into a crude memory lessen. He starts smiling more and more authentically, feel it coming from his very soul and reaching his eyes. He loves seeing his Loki enjoying life, carefree and child-like as he is. He loves getting to see him change into a tiny Frost Giant and roll in the snow whenever they visit some mountain or snowy city, chuckling and showing no signs of self-consciousness.   
  
Day after day, the weather turns warmer, sunnier heading towards a beautiful summer and he owes that he truly looks forward to it on Loki; for the unprecedented levels of patience he is showing and for dragging him in his own way from the depths of depression and post traumatic stress, from the unending vortex of grief.  
  
Day after day, the weight dragging Thor to the ground lifts, finding it easier to sleep with every night that passes, concentrating on the lithe form in his arms and Loki's calm breathing lulling him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

It is three months after the zoo incident that Thor’s assistance in a mission is required and the Avengers are called to Loki-sit for the first time.

They have all tried keeping Thor away from any and all missions - even those where his mightiness would have been greatly appreciated - because they knew that if someone needed a time off from action, it was him. Having lost everything - home, people, and family all in one day - had started taking its toll on the big guy until, as if in a miracle, his minx of a little brother had come back to life.

(Tony has an ongoing theory that Loki is greatly bored in the afterlife and somehow finds ways to be resurrected time and time again. That or someone just really, _really_ isn’t fond of the trickster’s company and keeps sending him back so he can terrorize someone else. Or Loki simply can’t bear the idea of staying so still in post mortal rigidness. Hm, Tony isn’t quite sure of the reason just yet, but he is avidly looking into it, trying to at least find a pattern or preferable style of dying.)

The call comes one beautiful Friday morning in late spring.

Morning for Tony, that is, for the rest it’s past noon and when he walks into the penthouse and living room he can see Thor in the adjoined kitchen along with Steve, talking while sauté-ing  marinated bits of chicken legs and wings in a couple of frying pans; Bucky is mixing a lettuce based salad and ignores Tony’s comment about them being _Earth’s Mightiest Heroes_ and not _Earth’s Mightiest Rabbits_ and Natasha is setting out the table, a rare tiny smile adorning her rose lips while she listens to Bruce and Pepper talking about something or another.

It’s all very domestic and Tony’s heart titters in a way it never did before; before becoming the Iron Man and before dating Pepper and before finding a family in this ragtag group of misfits.

(Tony was leading a lonely life since he was quite small, never having true friends, never able to find people who could truly intrigue him and hold his interest and it is kind of ironic somehow that he owes that to Loki’s little freak-show, even if he wasn’t able to look at it from this point of view at the time and for a long time after.)

“Wait,” Tony says suddenly, talking to no one in particular as he looks all around, pivoting in a narrow circle “where is our mascot?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at Thor. It is not often that one of the Odinsons is away from the other (read: _never_ ).

Thor snorts and flips another batch of fried wings in the platter beside him as Natasha answers Tony.

“Said he was gonna do a small _Instagram_ live with the view from the balcony as a background because our fans would love that, he should be back in a minute or two.” There is mirth in her words, but the smile on her face stays intact as she tilts her head and mutters, “speak of the devil.”

Loki is bounding into the room, phone in hand and oversized burgundy t-shirt – Thor’s by the looks of it – flapping lightly around his slight form.

“Thor! Thor! You won’t believe what just happened!”

As Loki enters, almost, but not quite, running into the common room calling his older brother's name everyone is as good as gone for Thor. There’s none who would be able to drag his attention away from Loki even if they tried punching him – _Thor_. If they ever tried punching _Thor_ that is, because if anyone so much as harmed a hair of Loki's precious curls they were as good as dead.

The frying pan is instantly forgotten, Steve rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he moves to take over Thor’s station alongside his while Thor turns on his heels and walks to meet Loki.

(Even before, even when they were fighting against him and even when he was thought dead everyone blurred before him for Thor. Like the big guy had two functions: _Loki-Related_ and _Not-Loki-Related_ \- and most of the time he operates under the _Loki-Related_ one _._ )

It’s like looking at two powerful magnets, unable to hold a distance, slotting together automatically as Thor meets with Loki and immediately wraps his big calloused hands on Loki’s sides so he can hoist him on his hip like an infant - an oversized, very heavy infant. Thor doesn’t even grunt in exertion, Tony hates him a little.

Loki is chittering away, motioning with his hands animatedly and has Thor’s utmost focus. Tony is sure that at least three fourth of the world’s population - humans and any other species there might exist - would kill to be in Loki’s place right now. Hell, even Tony is a little bit jealous; it would be so fucking comfortable if he moved via the _Godly Biceps Express TM_!

He stares at the duo until he gets hip-checked by a passing Steve.

“Privacy, Tony, do you even know what that is?” Steve jibes, but gives Tony an amused grin, setting the overflowing platters on the table.

The smile stretching on Tony’s lips is lazy and big and Steve chuckles when Tony replies with a witty “I don’t think such a useless word ever existed in my dictionary, old man.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Steve tuts, patting him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger for a moment longer before squeezing lightly and drawing away.

(Tony is thankful for a lot of things lately, his unexpected friendship with Steve is one of them, something that started building slowly after regrouping to fight Thanos, making Tony realize he had actually _missed_ the Captain’s insufferable righteousness. It shouldn’t have been easy, especially after all the chaos and hatred that had taken place between them, but great levels of mutual loss changed their faulty minds, making them seek something familiar.)

Meals and downtime with the Avengers is a raucous event. Usually Thor’s booming voice takes over as he recounts various adventures and sallies he had partaken in – more often than not in Loki’s company – during his long youth, dragging bellied laughs and exclaims of wonder from the rest; sometimes Tony and Bruce start talking science under Loki’s keen ear and wise mind while the others hold different conversations. It is a relaxing and fun affair all around, and certainly not a quiet one.

So when Natasha’s phone vibrates in her pocket and she announces it’s Fury there is a drawn-out groan going around the table.

Terrorists have taken hostages the peers of a music concert on Dusseldorf. The Avengers are to head over immediately.

 

* * *

 

 

The first to be on Loki- duty is Tony.

After half an hour of trying to find reasons for Thor to not be needed they come to the grim conclusion that his powers are truly needed if they want to stop the terrorists without mourning a horrific number of civilians while Iron Man can be replaced by the Patriot, so with him, Thor, Hulk, Captain, Bucky, Sam, Wanda and Natasha in the team they are above okay in man-power and lady-stealth and thus Tony ends up babysitting.

The farewell between the brothers could have been shorter, but Tony understands the deep desire to not leave a loved one's side no matter what. He is also achingly familiar with the face of someone who tries to act brave and strong, but can't be further from that on the inside and he can see it on both their faces.

Thor's trembling smile is far from the joyful grins Tony is used to seeing and curses the terrorists five ways to next Thursday for making Thor an irreplaceable asset in the mission.

The others are standing on the roof, in their gear and ready to go, but Thor is still clutching at Loki’s face, lips tight in concern as he reassures Loki _he will be back soon_ and that _Loki is going to be okay_.

(It’s the first time Thor is to be away from his brother for more than a few minutes and Tony would bet his head those reassurances are mostly for Thor’s sake than Loki’s. The God is trying so hard to convince himself of Loki’s well-being.)

“Thor, I will be perfectly fine,” Loki, ever the observant, coos, tilting his head to the side and giving a devilish grin at his big brother, “I cannot say the same for Stark, though.”

This makes Thor laugh and drag him into a hug by the back of his head, whispering something against Loki’s hair that Tony fails to hear.

“Come on, Big Guy,” says Tony, walking to stand beside them when their little moment has dragged on a little too long, “I promise to keep an eye on him and his little pranks. Do not worry about me.” He jokes, thumping Thor’s shoulder who gives a little chuckle and says goodbye before walking to the rest.

“Hold tight.” Thor says and instantly four pairs of hands grab onto his arms before they are disappearing from sight, going to meet with the rest of the Avengers and SHIELD.

“Teleportation is fucking amazing!” Tony whoops, turning to look at Loki.

The kid could have fooled him if he hadn’t spent the last year studying him and trying to figure him out, but the wistful look in his bright eyes doesn’t escape Tony’s trained eye.

(Tony doesn’t believe that anyone will ever be able to have Loki all figured out as Loki is akin to a river; forever moving, ever-changing, overflowing or almost dry. He is an excellent study subject.)

He sends a conspiratorial gaze at him before leaning in and stage-whispering, “What do you say for a little prank to the office across the street?”

Loki’s eyes spark in mischief, but he acts to think about it, rubbing his chin while humming and all that jazz.

“I would think it is about time they learn how to unwind a little.”

 

* * *

  

The office in question is on the 45th floor of the building right opposite the Tower, full of stuck up lawyers under a stuck up firm that has tried time and time again to sue the Avengers and SHIELD for indiscipline and unnecessary exposure to danger.

The truth is they have been dour since the Tower was erected and it obscured their million dollar view.  

It could also be because one or another of the Avengers has hurled through their floor-to-ceiling windows one time or two, scattering important paperwork all over the place and doubling their work, nothing too serious.

Beats Tony if he knows.

Or cares.

Tony and Loki spend an hour looking from their window on the opposite side of their building, brainstorming for a good and harmless prank while they observe the people going on about their jobs. They are a tight bunch of stuffy people, all tight lips and cold eyes.

“They are even frostier than me.” Loki muses, smiling at Tony’s little chuckling huff.

“Don’t I know it?”

“Hmm, the whole office, along its occupants is a little. . .dull,” there is a glint on Loki’s eyes when he turns to look at Tony, “what would you say to giving them a little, say, glam?”

Tony’s lips stretch in a feral smile.

“A well-done Tinkerbell coming right up!”

 

* * *

 

They teleport on the rooftop of the offending building, disguised in maintenance personnel and make their way to the office. Loki has put on a spell so they will appear familiar to the eye, but not recognizable and thus, start tinkering with the air-con system of the floor putting colourful glimmer – or _Fairy Dust_ as Loki likes to call it – in the ventilation system. They are quick in their work and make their way back to the rooftop and across the building right in time to see someone going to the thermostat while muttering about useless maintenance people who don’t know how to do their work right.

Loki and Tony watch with bated breath; even Jarvis can be heard whirring as if the AI is also waiting to record the perfect moment.

 The switch is turned, and rigged as it is to go on full blast, the lawyer gets a facefull of sparkling green, red and gold glitter.

The mischievous duo starts whooping and full-on cackling in success as they watch the whole floor get covered in glitter; the affronted gasps and wide eyes of the employees a thing of amusement for the two watching.

“This is marvelous! Look at their faces!” Tony laughs, thumping Loki on the back.

There is glitter everywhere! On their stuffy black and grey suits; on their hair and their faces and any patch of exposed skin. It’s lying on the floor and any surface and cranny it can reach and Tony would feel sorry for the cleaning staff, if they hadn’t decided in advance that Loki would magically clean everything after closing hours.

Loki is chuckling at his side, clutching the balcony’s rail with pale spider-like fingers and it draws and holds Tony’s gaze.

This Loki is so far off the half-mad wanna-be ruler he had to fight against all those years ago that he can’t but wonder how they can be the same person and what caused that change, because Tony knows from Thor’s stories that this is how Loki used to be before; a trickster, a loving brother that looked upon the world with wonder and amusement in his eyes, never failing to see the funny side in everything. So what had changed in his life that made him cruel and unseeing of all the love his brother had for him? Because if there is one thing Tony will never question it is Thor’s love for Loki.

(The image of Thor being an empty shell of a man, an ugly copy of his previous sunshiny self, is too recent in his mind and Tony is fairly certain that wouldn’t be the case if, along with everyone else, Thor hadn’t lost his brother too. Their relationship is highly confusing, but if one thing is quite obvious is how they are like two sides of the same coin, in which case the coin is faulty if one them is absent.)

Now, he can see Loki’s true self, unbidden and unburdened as he throws his head back and chuckles away, dimples showing on his plump cheeks. He is the very image of deviltry and Tony has the sudden urge to keep him safe from anything that could try and steal this away – just like with Peter.

 

* * *

 

In the end they spend the rest of the evening in Tony’s lab. The TV stays muted on the news channel broadcasting the hostage situation, showing what little they can record of the Avengers while the radio is on in their special frequency so they can hear how the rest are fairing.

Tony speaks away, showing Loki how several of his machines work as he tinkers on them, but he can see that the little mage’s attention is divided between him and the TV.

There is awe in Loki’s face when the screen shows a view of Thor, illuminated in light as he roundhouses on a bunch of terrorists that foolishly try to fire at him and Tony understands that in a great level.

(They are all a unique sight to watch when fighting – something that Tony doesn’t get to marvel in when he is part of the team.)

“It won’t be long now.” Tony muses when he sees the last of the hostages coming out and Steve nod at Hulk’s roar that they get to hear from the radio.

 _“Well done guys! SHIELD will take over now.”_ Steve’s voice fills the silent space of the lab and Tony smiles.

 _“I am to stay behind.”_ informs Natasha and they can see an image of her patting Thor’s shoulder on the TV before hearing her from the radio. _“Do you think you can take the rest back, Thor?”_

“Well, I think we are in need of a break here,” says Tony, wiping his hands with a rag and winking at Loki. “Come on.”

They take the elevator to the common floor and make it just in time to see Thor, Steve, Bucky and Hulk appear on the veranda. They are all better for the wear, tired and dirtied, but they smile at one another as they walk inside. Hulk huffs and Steve falls on the couch while Bucky goes to the fridge and drains a bottle of water and Thor. . . well, Thor is currently smothering a laughing Loki in his arms, not heeding the little one’s complains about Thor’s sturdy armour.

Steve chuckles from beside Tony, watching the exchange outside the window.

“Welcome home.” Tony says, thumping him on the shoulder and reclining beside him.

“We are home.” Steve replies and this is true, for Tony has made a home for all of them out of his ostentatious Tower; a place to come back to after a long day knocking sense in bad guys.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

* * *

 

The second time one of the Avengers gets called to keep Loki company Natasha has the honour.

It is one of _those days_ and while Natasha is more than capable in fighting crime while ignoring any pain and discomfort she might feel, today she had trouble getting up in the first place as she has come down with a stupid, summer cold.

Being on her days while nursing a cold is where she will later throw the blame for her out of character exclamation on the breakfast table – or couch in her case.

She is all bundled up on the spacious sofa of their living room, trying to swallow down through a sore throat her cereal.

(This is not a common cold and she wishes she at least could beat the responsible scientist’s ass for this because period cramps plus cold is the worst thing and if this wasn’t a lab-created virus she wouldn’t be in this situation right now.)

“Lady Natasha, would you like a cup of hot tea?” Thor’s kind voice comes from the kitchen table where he tries to keep Loki’s head from falling into his plate and ruin his eggs.

Natasha tries to speak, but her voice comes out as a high-pitched grunt, so she nods her head instead causing Thor to smile at her and gets up, putting the old-fashioned kettle on the stove while keeping an eye on his sleepy brother.

“My mother used to brew this tea for us,” Thor says, putting several kinds of herbs into a teapot while he waits for the water to boil, there is a wistful little smile on his lips at the mention of their mother, “we used to get sick a lot, godlings or not, as we had the awful habit of chasing each other or following after the other in the rain or snow.”

There is a fond smile on his handsome face, looking at his brother with obvious adoration.

“I was the one more prone to getting ill, but even Loki, regardless of his Frost Giant origin – something we weren’t aware of at the time - have fallen in the sickbed a handful of times.” Loki grumbles at that, leading a lazy hand to his mouth with a forkful of food, but Thor doesn’t reply to his barbs. “She would make us drink it to the last drop and in the end of every teacup our throats would feel marginally better than before.”

He comes to her with a tray, serving her the sweet smelling tea and diving a spoonful of honey inside.

Natasha squeezes his hand in thanks, taking the cup to her hands afterwards to blow on the steaming liquid as he smiles and goes back to the table, preventing Loki from smashing into his plate at the last minute.

Watching them like this Natasha understands what has always been off about Thor, why he always came out as a person incomplete in her eyes. Those two, brothers, complicated or whatever, were two halves of the same thing, completing and complimenting each other. Where one lacked - as much as two Gods of their power and knowledge could lack in something anyway - the other made up for it in abundance, lending each other their strengths, being there to help them withstand their hardships and hide their weaknesses from the rest of the world.

They obviously have spent a lifetime having each other’s backs.

Thor’s hand has left Loki’s forehead, but stays on his shoulder and he has leaned down to kiss the top of his head, whispering to him. Loki nods tiredly and continues his food, making a strange sound that even Natasha’s trained ear has trouble catching.

“Good morning,” Steve treads into the living room, freshly showered after his work-out with Bucky and Sam. He smiles to everyone and ruffles Loki’s hair in his way to the fridge.

(Natasha is pretty sure Clint would have an aneurysm if he could see the way Loki had become a part of their group, ungrudgingly and unconditionally.)

She feels a light tightness in her stomach upon thought of her dear friend, but he has finally been released from SHIELD’s claw and he is living a happy life with his family in the mountains. She really couldn’t ask for more.

Anyway, he would have an aneurysm and probably a stroke to top it off, because if there is one person that holds the biggest grudge on Loki then it is him, unable to forgive the breach of his thoughts and memories.

“I have good news.” Bruce says when the elevator dings and lets him in the room, glasses perched on his nose and StarkPad on his hand. He doesn’t even glance at them as he continues speaking. “The virus is thankfully harmless; its only affects those of a common cold. I don’t know yet how much it will last though.” He sends a grimace Natasha’s way as she passes the tablet to Steve.

The elevator dings again and Tony stumbles in, obviously still half-asleep as he goes and takes a seat beside Loki. These two were always awfully alike, but having visual proof of it is a level higher than what Natasha ever expected. They also seem to have grown close after the day Tony kept him company and have formed a strange kind of friendship laced around their shared love for science, pranks and all-nighters.

Thor currently has his hands more than full trying to watch out so neither of them will doze off.

It is as Bucky and Sam make their way inside, chuckling lightly and pushing each other that there is a high-pitched sneeze alerting everyone.

Seven pairs of eyes turn on Loki and there is a resounding gasp following.

Loki, dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a green tank top is looking at his plate with wide crimson eyes, his complexion has turned blue; not the sickly blue of someone that’s been too long in the snow, but that of the sky and there are lines and whorls running down his skin.

Thor is glaring at each one of them, ready to pummel anyone that dares to say anything bad or show any kind of spiecisism. 

“That’s adorable!” Natasha keens through a stuffy nose and turns beat red when everyone’s attention is dragged on her. She will forever blame the virus for her slip-up. She is meant to be the cold assassin, damn it! She has a reputation to uphold, not go around spouting cute shit like that.

“Thank you.” Loki’s cheeks have turned indigo and there is a tiny smile tugging on his lips that doesn’t get overshadowed by Thor’s gigantic grin for it is just as lovely.

“See,” he says, poking Loki with a finger, “I am not the only one thinking so.”

“Didn’t know Frost Giants were a more badass version of _Avatar_.” Tony says and throws his hands in the air, exasperated after taking a look around at their confused faces. “Seriously? Not even one of you?”

Steve shrugs while Bruce mutters something about being on the chase for years and thus not having much time to update his cinefilm collection.

“That’s it! From now on we have mandatory movie nights!” he states, throwing a decisive glare all around and that’s when Coulson strolls in, smiling all around.

“This would actually be a perfect pastime, contrary to pranking innocent people.” He says pleasantly, throwing a meaningful gaze in Tony and Loki’s direction which they both answer with a wide, proud, tight-lipped smile.

If Natasha was feeling even an ion better than she really does she would roll her eyes at their likeness; as it is she can only huff and lean her head against the pillow in a rare show of weakness.

“I am loath to ruin your relaxing breakfast, but we have come across the scientist’s lair.”

From then on there is constant motion over the place as the Avengers get informed on everything they should know and then start getting ready - there is a side in the spacious room that holds a secret row of closets, keeping their weapons and uniforms for easy reach.

It is decided without much argument that Natasha will stay behind and Thor kisses Loki’s forehead quickly, assuring him he will be back soon before calling Stormbreaker to his hand and, along with Coulson, they teleport out of sight.

Natasha hates to be left out, but she won’t deny that in her current condition she would be more a burden than help.

She can see Loki still sitting on the table, sleepiness evaporated after the flurry of motion. He gets up slowly and starts gathering the plates, putting away the leftovers in case someone wants a snack later and then starts putting them away in the dishwasher before moving to take Natasha’s bowl too.

“Are you in need of anything, Lady Natasha?” he asks, his young voice holding a note of pure concern.

(He, just like his brother, insists on calling her with an honorific most of the time. No matter her reassuring them for the contrary – Thor had once explained how it is a title of honour in Asgard and how if there is someone deserving that kind of respect then it is her. Natasha still feels fluttered every time.)

“No, Loki, thank you.”

Loki smiles and goes to put away her bowl. “If you do, please inform me.”

Natasha nods, patting his thigh when he comes to sit beside her on the couch.

They spend most of the day in companionable silence watching trashy TV and, even though her fever induced dizziness, she finds herself chocking on bursts of laughter at Loki’s sarcastic and very on-point commentary.    
  
“The way she poses reminds me of a demented harpy Thor and I faced once.” Loki huffs, causing Natasha to chortle on a chuckle.

They currently watch reruns of _America’s Next Top Model_ and Loki is nothing less than brilliant upon seeing the wanna-be models.

“A harpy, huh?” Natasha mutters, resting her head on the arm of the couch, trying to will away her unstoppable headache. She has been like this for almost a week now; it’s nothing more than the most basic symptoms of a common cold but their continuous appearance has exhausted her. A torture if anybody asks her, for not even Loki’s healing magic or soothing, chilly touch can relieve her of the constant low fever. “I’d like to hear this story.”

Loki smiles and indulges.

“We were barely in our late nine-hundreds when one warm spring night, Fandral – one of Thor’s dim-witted friends – came crushing in Thor’s hall, Bilskirnir, interrupting a quiet game of chess between us, filling Thor’s mind with murmurs and gossip he has come upon on the tavern and of course Thor, ever the mighty oaf looking for glory, sprang to his feet, instantly commanding for preparations to be done, for we were to head out on the morrow.”

Natasha huffs, smiling at the reminiscent look on Loki’s face, the affection in his voice obvious, no matter his irritable words.

“So as the first light broke out, we bundled our steeds and on the road we went, searching for the beast seen deep in Asgard’s darkest forest.” He pauses, flicking his fingers and Natasha gasps internally at the hologram appearing in front of them; a moving image of six horses and their riders, hair tussling in the rushing wind. She can make out Thor from his crimson cape flailing behind him, hair held in a tight bun and she guesses the figure on his right is a young Loki, dressed in all black, coattails flapping against his black horse’s hide.

“Three days we treaded through the woods and three nights camped under the light of the moon and on the fourth,” the images twist and turn with his words, showing them around a blazing fire, laughing and making jokes and then sleeping on the ground. She notices Thor and Loki sleeping close together near a rock, Loki closer to the boulder and Thor a scarce feet in front of him, protective of his little brother even in his sleep, “we were suddenly attacked.”

The peaceful scene is no more. There is a flurry of motion, dark as night wings fluttering over their sleeping forms, alerting their honed senses to danger.

“Hogun was the first to be attacked,” an elfin man with hair dark as night gets thrown on the ground by an anthropoid kind of bird, “Thor was on his feet in seconds, brandishing Mjolnir, but even he stood rendered speechless in astonishment, for the creature before us was something none had ever seen yet again; a righteous abomination, pale as the moon with wings dark as the freshest of blood, brandishing talons akin to daggers and a hellish shriek that pierced through our ears and threatened our heads to burst upon hearing it.”

Natasha swears she has never seen again something as horrific; its sunken eyes resemble black holes against its face and its wide open mouth brandishes two rows of sharp, pointy teeth. A shiver runs down her spine and is the first one not caused by her cold.

“What did you do?” she asks in a whisper, glancing at Loki who’s eyes glimmer in pride.

“I stunned it, of course.”

“Of course.”

In the hologram a young Loki sides Thor, moving his fingers in graceful twirls and the creature freezes mid-attack, its talons a breath’s width away from a big, red haired man’s eyes.

“Thor, then, with a great swing flung his war-hammer and pummeled it to the ground, killing it without hesitation.”

The scene shows Thor giving two well-placed hits at the harpy, blood spluttering across his young features and having only a moment to breathe before getting swiped up in the arms of the enormous man and then surrounded by the rest in cheers and congratulatory pats.

She notices both how the woman in their team – the renown Sif, Natasha assumes – looks at Thor with something more than simple respect and comradeship, and how Loki remain lingering to the back, going to study the beast after throwing an indignant look at the celebrating party.

It tingles something deep inside her, that obvious dismissal of Loki’s remarkable aid, and it makes her want to gather Loki in her arms and protect him from these hurtful memories which are marginally different from Thor’s recounts of their escapades where Loki is always a precious asset and celebrated thus. Obviously Thor is awfully short-sighted when it comes to the regard his friends had for his beloved brother.

But Loki is only looking at the scene in front of him with no emotion in his eyes but an empty gaze.

(It sheds a tiny ray of light on what led Loki to his faulty actions of the past and reveals only the tiniest bit of what could have gone on in his mind. Just how many times had he been scorned and ignored just because he was _he_?  How many memories like this one does he have, that accumulated and overflowed in the end, leaving him in shambles of what he could be, what he was once upon a time?)

But Loki doesn’t flick his fingers, letting the scene play out until the end, making Natasha understand how Loki had withstood it all; the young Thor sidles up to his brother, smiling affectionately and holding the side of Loki’s neck in his big hand.

 _“Thank you, brother”_ Loki recites as hologram-Thor’s mouth moves, _“I wouldn’t have been afforded the victory if it wasn’t for you.”_

 Holo-Loki’s eyes open in surprise, his lips’ hard line softening in the barest of smiles and Natasha has all the answers she might need.

 

* * *

 

Thereafter, Loki keeps in attendance with her even though her insistence to not worry and he also makes a delicious stew with ingredients he manifested from thin air. Natasha is almost jealous of powers like those.

She is dozing off when Loki takes her hand in both of his in a gentle motion and through half-lidded eyes she watches him as he inspects her nails, seemingly drawn by the bright red they are currently painted.

“You like them?” she asks, smiling a little to show her acceptance of his scrutiny.

“They are. . .” he starts, seeming to think about it, “interesting.”

“Women don’t paint their nails in Asgard?”

A small, sad tint takes over his light features, making her realize her slip-up. Asgard is no more. Women of Asgard are no longer.

“Oh, they did.” He muses, slowly, “but they preferred the colours of the earth and summer; light pinks and gold, even light green sometimes, but never colours as bright.”

“Here we have nail polish in all the colours of the rainbow and its accents.”A perfect eyebrow gets raised at that, brilliant green eyes sparkle in interest.

Natasha turns her hand and starts her own inspection of his; long, thin fingers on a long narrow palm; small, almost fragile wrist and short neat fingernails. If the hands are the very image of a person’s inner power then Loki’s are perfect mirrors of his magic. Where Thor’s are wide and strong with brute strength, Loki’s are almost skeleton-like; cunning fingers hiding immense wells of power.

 “Would you like me to paint yours?” she asks before she is even coherent of the words forming in her mouth and is gifted with a diminutive smile, almost shy in its existence.

Loki gives a nod of assent and she gets up, still holding his hand and nudging him to the elevator, nodding at him to take a seat at her apartment’s soft couch while she goes to get her nail polishes.

Natasha, along with the rest, has a floor all to her own with spacious, furnished rooms; a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom and another room occupied solely by a huge Jacuzzi that overlooks the richest neighborhoods of Manhattan, but, just like the rest, she much prefers spending most of her down time in the company of the others in the common floor that is the penthouse.

She makes quick work with gathering her colours and heads back, spreading them on the crème couch beside his leg and takes a seat of her own on the other side of the bottles. Observing him as he inspects the colours with unnecessary levels of seriousness.

Sometimes she fails to believe just how much her life suddenly changed for the better –going through the worst first, of course – after meeting these people, unique and weird all in their own way. But what is even more of a thing of wonder is how, slowly, she has come to like even Loki. _Loki_. The reason for a lot of things, but most of all the reason behind the Avengers’ first coming together.

(He has had spread so much terror and chaos in his path, but now Loki is a part of them. Critical in its existence, for it hasn’t failed her notice how when Loki isn’t having a very good day – for reasons still unknown to them – they all are empathizing. Not just Thor, but all of them. Worrying over their little companion’s well-being almost as much as his older brother does. He is essential to the group and not only because he brought them back the Thor they all have known and loved, but because in the span of the two years of his return he has started becoming someone dear to most of them.)

“I would like this one.” He says, his voice piercing its way through her thoughts.

“A nice choice.” She replies, taking the bottle and his hand.

She can feel him remarking her, forming his own deductions in the maze that is his mind, not contrary to hers.

“You are a formidable rival, Lady Natasha,” Loki says when she has finished applying one cyan coat to his left hand and she’s moving to the other. She lifts an eyebrow, humming lightly as she waits for him to continue. “But I much prefer you as a friend.”

Her stomach flutters in something akin to happiness, for friends weren’t easy to find in a world like hers.

“As do I.” She says, meeting his eyes and his smile with one of hers.

Finding a friend in Loki isn’t a thing she would have expected three years ago, before fighting against Thanos, but they won’t see her complaining any day soon.

 

* * *

 

Thor comes back with his blood still pumping on the rage of battle. The scientist and his scattering of lab-altered beasts proved to be more of a fight than any of them expected, taking them the better part of a whole day to neutralize and take into custody.

Bruce is hanging by his forearm limply, half-asleep on his feet and Tony’s eyes are rimmed red when the machines take off his metallic face and he is trying to smother a huge yawn. Bucky and Sam have stayed behind along with Coulson, waiting for SHIELD to get the scientist and Steve is rubbing an ungloved hand over his face tiredly.

They each make their way inside from the landing platform and when Thor passes the glass doors he cannot but smile at the sight greeting them; there, on the couch is Natasha curled on Loki’s side who, in turn, has his feet on the small table in a rare show of impropriety while dozing off against his favourite corner. Thor quickly retrieves his phone from where he had left it earlier on the kitchen counter and snaps a photo or two of the relaxing scene.

(Unbeknownst to him, at the same moment Tony takes a picture of his own, capturing the adoring look on the mighty God’s face.)

Steve’s huff is full of affection as he goes to the sleeping duo and brush a gentle hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

“Nat, we have the antidote,” He whispers, mindful of alerting them. “Come on, it will take only but a moment.”

Natasha murmurs something incomprehensible in reply, but Loki cracks one eye open, taking in the others all around them before smiling. “Welcome back,” he says and shuts his eye again.

“Come on sleepy-head,” Thor coaxes and, as Steve takes Natasha in his arms, he does the same with Loki, carrying him against his chest. “Good night, our friends.” He nods, making his way to the elevator.

“’Missed you.” Loki murmurs when Thor lays him upon their bed.  
  
(Countless times Thor had returned home, fresh from battle or some other escapade after long days away when Loki was still too young or too busy to accompany him and at these times, Loki would often lean his head on Thor’s shoulder when the opportunity of a little moment of privacy arose and murmur these words, lean fingers clutching at Thor’s cape and voice no more than a low timbre. As if it was their secret and theirs alone, not for the ears of any other. Coveted moments tucked in the recesses of Thor’s heart, forever to be cherished and held dear.)

“I’ve missed you, too, Loki,” He whispers, leaving a fluttering kiss on Loki’s forehead and, holding onto the bold tendrils of courage, he adds aloud for the first time in his long life: “my love.”   

Loki smiles in his sleep and clutches tightly on Thor’s cape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi~ sorry for taking this long. This chapter turned to be a mini beast so I had to break it into two parts.  
> I hope you liked little Loki's interactions with Tony and Nat because there will be more :D 
> 
> Something that I forgot to point out in the previous chapter is that _kjære_ means _dear_ and I hate myself a little for this because I hate when there are foreign words I don't understand in a story and I was meaning to put on the translation like I did in this chapter but well. . . hehe ^^;
> 
> Side note: I've not read any of the comics, I only know of MCU and some facts that I read around internet. So those of you who know something specific about Natasha and want to scoff at me let's pretend that never happened and step happily into the sunset, eh? 
> 
> Again, thank you for all the love you've showed to my baby, you deserve tons of candy!


	6. The Incredible Nanny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least Loki is a very silent presence at his peripheral, droning into a book for nuclear physics, seemingly taken with the destructive mix of elements. He doesn’t even make a sound. Bruce is a tiny bit worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is looking like a 15yr old in this one. :)

Loki has his first nightmare two years after his return to the world of living.

It cannot exactly be called a nightmare, because no great terror transpires, but it still has Loki waking up in cold sweat, reaching for Thor at his side and clinging on to him while he tries to calm down his heartbeat.

 It actually  is more of a memory. One that Loki had never succeeded letting go of and, in a row of memories without depth or emotion, recollections that feel like Loki is nothing more than a spectator, taking everything in with a cold stature, as if they are things happening to someone else, it might be the only such intense memory he has yet.

(There are times he wonders why this is happening. Why it feels as if he has the memories of another person, never get more than a light longing in his chest upon remembering and emptiness, so much emptiness. But to no avail, even after hours of pondering and searching for an answer he cannot come up with any tangible answer. Only fog.)

In the dream, he saw Thor, charming as he had always been but younger. So young that baby fat still mellowed the hard lines his physique would much later gain. Loki was younger still, all long cattle-like limbs and curly hair, bursts of barely controlled magic. They were only pushing through their first hundredth of living years and they were still as if joined by the hip. Forever together, always following each other into trouble.

The dream starts bright and joyful, as the memory always had, with Thor laughingly elbowing Loki who is walking beside him, not laughing, but still sighing out a chuckle. They were so young that Loki still looked with undisguised reverence at his brother, thoughts of a different kind not poisoning his mind and heart yet, unguarded of his looks and not shying away from freely touching his brother.

They were still teenagers by Asgardian standards, long ways from even breaching the cusps of adulthood and they thought they could have the world. Thor thought he was undefeated and Loki kept that thought as a prayer, for Thor was his big brother; strong and big even if he still was only a fairly tall and wiry child.  For Loki, Thor could do anything. _Them_ together could conquer the realms, fight their way through any enemy and come out victorious.

It started as something naïve, innocent jibes and words filled with challenge, nor malice or envy.  It was nothing much, really, an idiotic moment in a long line of assorted stupidity. Or it should have been nothing. This is what they had thought back then.

A childish challenge that Thor was as eager to accept as Loki was to see the results.

They didn’t tell a word to their new friends, didn’t say anything to anyone. It was their thing and theirs alone. So, they snuck out into the night, believing they could find their target without help. Their steps were quick on the fallen leaves of the woods that surrounded the buzzing citadel. Giddy chuckles leaving their lips every once in a while, excited at the prospect of mischief managed.

They had trekked for hours when they heard it; a low rumbling sound and there it stood, right in front of them was their target. With eyes green as the freshest moss and fur a black silk, rippling under the moon’s silver light and twice their size.

Thor’s sweaty palm wrapped around Loki’s wrist, a finger from his other hand touching his own lips in silent warning. His blue eyes on his hairless face looked at Loki’s for a good moment before nodding and letting go. Thor got out of their hiding, dragging out a borrowed axe he had taken from the armory earlier in the day while concealing it with the help of Loki’s magic.

The glint of the weapon and the sweat on Thor’s skin got the beast’s attention. It only needed a moment of turning its eerie eyes on Thor before deciding he would be its next meal. Pray delivered on a silver plate.

The fight wasn’t long; Thor was greatly overpowered in both strength and viciousness back then. His screams of pain as the great feline sliced through his flesh, a sound forever etched in Loki’s mind.

Loki had screamed along, in alert and fear for his brother’s life and, unheeding of Thor’s words or his earlier challenge, he had jumped out from behind the boulder, yelling to catch the beast’s attention.

A stupid move he would later find out as the feline turned and hissed, swinging with its gigantic paw at his slight form. Loki had fallen on the ground, hitting the back of his head against a fallen log, but the feline didn’t think much of him. It had another target, with more meat and sinew than bone.

Loki had groaned, levering himself up on his elbows and while gritting his teeth his vision had gone red, literally. Every colour intensifying; turning darker and brighter at the same time. The sweat on Thor’s skin glinting brightly when the moon-rays fell onto it, his hair a wild yellow and the beast’s eyes a poisonous green colour holding the promise of pain. The shadows were darker than ever

No! Loki couldn’t let that happen! He couldn’t let it take Thor away from him! He was his! Thor was his and his alone, no other’s!

With a roar rising from the pit of his stomach, Loki had raised both his hands. Fury and desperation burning through him at the prospect of losing his brother. And a blast of ice was sent forward, shaking Loki’s very core with the undeniable raw power behind it. It hit right on its target, freezing and piercing the beast on the spot, drowning its yowls of pain in cold hard ice.

(Thinking back to it, Loki should have taken the signs in consideration, but alas, he never did, anxious for his brother’s life as he had been.)

Thor was lying on the ground, heaving for breath and clutching at his stomach where the worst of the wounds was located, a deep gash crossing his flesh diagonally, oozing rich red blood that through Loki’s crimson gaze looked dark as the night.

Loki had yelled Thor’s name in alarm, running to his side and falling on his knees, trying to push healing seidr on the wound, but to no avail. His blood sang for battle, his magic for the kill he had just made, demanding more, wanting release. But his heart shriveled in fear.

The trip back home had taken them more than he would like, Thor was barely conscious, leaning heavily on his side as they walked, causing them to stumble more than walk. When they had made it before the palace’s enormous doors, Thor was only a few seconds away from collapsing, pallor paler than even Loki’s own, a sickly ashen white from the loss of blood.

Surprised yelps had resounded around the palace at the sight of the princes. A mixed crowd of courtiers and guards closing in around them only to take a step back when Loki had screamed in frustration moments before they parted for Frigga and Odin to rush forward, no wonder notified by the rumbled Heimdall behind them – a rare sight to behold, that of Heimdall showing pure feeling.

Frigga had let out a little gasp, running forward to grab Thor’s face and look at him, while Odin ordered the guard to move Thor to the healers’ rooms.

Thor’s weight had been suddenly taken from Loki, leaving him unsteady on his feet and with a deep wrongness.

 _No! Thor!_ Loki had screamed, trying to hold onto Thor’s now unconscious form, never wanting to let go.

But the hands wrapping around him had held him back, Frigga’s agitated voice as if coming from within a cave. His vision was still a blurry red at the edges, but no one had noticed. Not even he did.

It was the first time Thor had been taken from him.

Now, Loki whimpers and tries to stifle the sound on Thor’s warm skin, pushing his forehead against his chest and taking a long centering breath of his scent, feeling under his cheek the lightly raised lines of that particular deep wound the healers and everyone else had failed in erasing completely.

(Thor had laughed insouciantly, swatting away Loki’s hands every time the young mage tried to heal him, boasting that it was a mark showing his and his brother’s valor, something to be proud of, not hide. Afterwards he had always dragged Loki into comforting hugs, easing his young mind for just a little while, soothing his inner demons.)

He remembers every little detail from that time so vividly. It’s a haunting moment. Overwhelming desperation upon watching his brother get taken away, battered and _dying_. Helplessness and blame. Regret at having lead his _hero_ in what could be his demise.

And Loki remembers how it was the first time he had felt all this, more intensely than any other time he had betrayed his brother, lead him to harm.

Thor’s strong arms wrap around Loki’s form, tightening around as he starts shushing him, kissing his dark hair and the wetness from his face.

“It was only a bad dream.” Thor whispers with voice heavy from sleep scratching against his throat and holds his little brother tightly, comfortingly. “All is well, now.” Burrowing closer still, Loki whimpers for it will never be a dream, neither a good nor a bad one. It will forever be Loki’s worst memory. The first time he had caused Thor great harm.

(Thor doesn’t know. He never did. Loki never told him how dreadful that escapade had been for him and how could he when Loki felt such shame that he couldn’t even look at Thor without crying for weeks after the incident. No, it was one of Loki’s most well-kept secrets and that way it should stay.)

It is hours later that Loki gets dragged back into sleep, having cried himself out and having taken great doses of Thor’s affections. From that night onwards the dreams start up, as if his brain needed provoking. His dreams are abstract things that make no sense upon waking up, but the occasional nightmare keeps sneaking in.

Always the same haunting moment of his life.

 

* * *

 

It’s a little more than half a year after Natasha’s turn that Thor has to partake in a mission. He doesn’t have to, but Steve has already taken a little team consisted of Tony, Sam and Wanda to an undercover Re-Con and that is exactly when the call from Rhodes comes. He wants them to go to Egypt and retrieve stolen cargo of Stark Industries. Very potent weaponry. Confidential.

Bruce holds up his hands, declaring out of it. He has very important research to do and cannot leave in the middle of it because he is close to a breakthrough. . . he thinks. Thor tries to argue, but Bruce will have none of that. In the end, Thor relents, but not without grouching about it.

If he wants to be fair, the mission will be done and over before long; Stormbreaker’s teleportation powers a great asset in this case. So, Thor sulks and sighs and holds onto Loki longer than necessary, kissing the top of his head – a feat turned easier seen as the kid’s height has already reached to his shoulder.

(Natasha says that Loki is looking more and more like a fifteen-year old these days, a young teenager after a sudden burst of growth. Thor agrees even if Loki reminds him of how he had been when they had been close to a hundred and twenty, but he knows humans age quicker, what with their small expanse of life.)

(Also, Loki is closer now to the age that Thor had started desiring him, turning everything even more troubling for him. Even though Thor keeps strong the more tactile habit he has adopted the last two years, still showering him with affection any chance he gets in, unlike the past.)

They head off and while the mission should be an easy enough matter - he simply has to lay a hand on the cargo while activating the Stormbreaker and then coming back to retrieve Bucky and Natasha, a child’s play, really – something goes wrong – because, of course it does - and they get surrounded by a bunch of bad guys in a very tight space in the company of very flammable weapons.

Thor sighs in annoyance when he sees he cannot use his thunder under these circumstances and they have to fight hand-to-gun with the homicidal psychos. Great.

He simply wanted to spend the day in Loki’s company reading Jane Austen’s best literary works, he didn’t ask for stupid shits to fight!

(They had left off last night at the middle of _Persuasion_ and Thor is dying to know what will happen next; will Anne get her happy ending with Captain Frederick or will her duty win over her heart’s desires? _Sigh._ ) 

Thor rolls his eyes when the woman who seems to be the leader gets into a full-out dramatic monologue consisted of how _they won’t get out alive_ and how _she will rule the world with the three of them out of her way_. Obviously she hasn’t taken into consideration the rest of the Avengers, but Thor isn’t going to point that out to her.

“Can we get on with it? I have a book to get back to.” Thor grumbles annoyed with the change of his plans, throwing a very directed spark of lighting to her hand, making her drop her gun in surprise.

Chaos ensues.

 

* * *

 

Bruce would have liked it if he had privacy for his research, but at least Loki is a very silent presence at his peripheral, droning into a book for nuclear physics, seemingly taken with the destructive mix of elements. He doesn’t even make a sound. Bruce is a tiny bit worried.

He isn’t exactly sure if it is wise to let Loki swallow up so much information, seeing as he had been dangerous even without having this particular bit of knowledge. But, well; only time will tell.

Bruce is at least calm that if the other guy decides to come out he won’t harm Loki in any way. Hulk has been accepting of Loki the few times he has come out, going as far as playing a magical game of catch with him last time.

(It was after a fight and Loki had the brilliant idea to calm him down with it so Bruce could come out and give some answers on the purple, oversized critters they had been called to fight. They had both enjoyed it greatly.)

It seems that Hulk’s friends’ friends are also _Hulk’s_ friends and Bruce is thankful for that, for if there is one thing that will surely upset him is the far-off chance of Thor seeking revenge for Loki’s sake from Hulk, if he so much as repeats to the little guy what he had done _that_ time to the little guy when he was bigger – as in adult form.

Bruce can feel the warning signs of a headache each time he tries to think about Loki and his confusing predicament. Sometimes it’s hard even explaining to his own self to what Loki he is referring to.

Damn Loki and his terrible habit of dying and coming back. It’s either _die and stay dead_ or _don’t die in the first place_! Is this so hard of a concept to grasp?

Bruce’s blood pressure will appreciate it if Loki has made up his mind this time around – and for the good of everyone he avidly hopes it will be the _don’t die in the first place_ choice. He isn’t positive New York or any other country or planet is ready for yet another one of Thor’s emotion-related torrential rainstorm breakdowns.

It also would kill Thor to lose his brother again, for sure, seeing as they have grown closer than they had been when Bruce got to know them.

It doesn’t help that the little guy has come to grow on both Bruce and the Hulk and his loss would sadden the both of them equally and he would be terribly missed.

(Loki is like a fungus, Bruce had said to Natasha one late night when they were curled in the black sofa of his private living room and the discussion had rolled to how she had grown close to Loki as of late. A sharp, witty, too-smart-for-his-own-good fungus that grows on you without you taking notice. His absence going unnoticed until you get to know him and then his existence becomes necessary. An integral part of your life. Natasha had laughed and swatted at him.)

“What is it that you are so keen in researching, anyway?” Bruce yelps when Loki’s broken, teenage voice comes suddenly from beside him. He lets out air harshly from his nose, fluttering his eyes in a blink and fixes his glasses in his nervous habit.

“Nothing of interest to you, I assure you.” Bruce mumbles, continuing his scribbling of notes and numbers and equations.

It is a very personal matter to go around explaining it to his friends.

And yes, Loki is his friend. Even begrudgingly so, he has come to think of the boy as such after hours upon hours spent talking about science and sapping on Loki’s endless knowledge of the universe along with Tony. They had even shared intimate little moments of confessions sometimes when they were closed off in the labs the three of them, letting out little tidbits and stories, facts about themselves.

Through those conversations Bruce and Tony have come to notice how something is terribly wrong with the young prince and even though they still haven’t found out what it is exactly, they know it has something to do with the range of his emotions.

Loki is a well-behaved boy for the most part of it, ready to smile and have fun, but even if sometimes irritation pokes its head, it’s nothing that cannot be dissolved easily. For some reason it feels wrong. Bruce feels like he doesn’t have the full story.

It certainly has something to do with what hologram-Loki had said when they had first found kid-Loki in Canada’s forest: a _ll the bitterness and darkness, gone._ But it doesn’t explain the emptiness of his eyes when he relays some olden memory, as if devoid of any feeling attached to the flashback.

Bruce tries to change the subject, so he points out the incessant noise he has been hearing for the good part of an hour now.

“Do you hear this?” he asks, raising his eyes to look at the direction of the sound.

Loki’s eyes turn impossibly innocent. “I cannot hear a thing.”

It’s like the kid doesn’t even try to be good at lying sometimes – certainly an enormous difference from his past self.

“What is that sound? It’s driving me crazy.” Bruce complains, walking to the closet in the corner of the room, where the books Loki had been reading are lying forgotten on the floor.

(Later, after Bruce’s discovery, he is pretty sure it had been an illusion of Loki reading avidly about nuclear physics while the boy was in the closet. Pun not intended.)

“No! No! Bruce, wait a moment-“

He yanks open the wooden door, only to find a spacious room in place of the narrow closet. “What the Hell?!” the room is freezing cold and _is that snow on the floor?_ Yes, yes it is. And right there in the middle of the room is an honest to God red panda that squeals and runs to hide behind a tree.

“Now you’ve scared her!” Loki’s tone is reproachful as he pushes through the door and Bruce’s bulk and walks easily to the small mammal. “Come here, Lady Snugglepuff Squishypaws.” He calls in what is probably the gentlest voice Bruce has ever heard coming from Loki. It is even gentler than when he talks to Thor.

“How long has this been going on?” Bruce asks, taking in the room, an interdimensional pocket space no wonder, build to look and feel like snowy tundra; small cliffs surround the room’s sides, trees and even a small lake are scattered in the open space. It truly is a thing of wonder.

“A few days after visiting the Himalayas.” Loki answers, smiling when the small animal walks slowly towards him and hugs his leg.

“So, a year then?”

Loki nods.

“Does Thor know?”

Loki has Lady Snugglepuff Squishypaws engulfed in his arms, holding her furry little body against his as the animal nuzzles his neck, seeking comfort.  Loki doesn’t answer.

“Of course he doesn’t.” Bruce mutters, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt’s hem.

“You won’t tell on us, Bruce.” Loki starts, turning big green pleading eyes on him. “Please?”

The mammal _wha_ ’s and she, too, turns her beady eyes on the scientist, as if she is comprehensible of what is going on around her. (She is.)

Bruce sighs long-sufferingly, because _maybe_ he has grown a little favourable towards Loki and he cannot really resist when kids – or young people – send him _that_ look. Add to it a very cute animal and yeah, Bruce is a goner. “Alright, but I won’t be held responsible when he finds out. Because he will one day, Loki.”

Loki nods, thanking him eagerly while hugging Lady Snugglepuff Squishypaws tightly against his chest in glee.

“Can I pet her?”

 

* * *

 

“I believe a potion would be easier to brew than the impossibility you try to crack.” Loki states, smirking at Bruce when he turns wide eyes on him. He is once again standing behind Bruce in the lab, Lady Snugglepuff Squishypaws sleeping with her head on his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Bruce inquires, already knowing the answer.

Loki is impudent and fluid, trundling along events the way he sees fit each time and smarter than he really should be. Bruce should have known that no secret will stay such for long while in Loki’s company, for it takes a single look over Bruce’s shoulder for Loki to put two and two together and understand.

“It is high time for you and Lady Natasha to take the next step, Bruce, I would think so.” 

“Nobody has _asked_ for your opinion.” Bruce mumbles, feeling his face getting hot. “And how do you even know about me and Nat?”

Loki scoffs, jumping to sit onto the research table, graceful and mindful of jostling the animal too much, swinging his legs back and forth. His smirk is intact on his face while he examines his dyed red nails. “Come on now, Brucey, we are all aware of what is going on with the two of you. You cannot exactly live in a house full of people and expect them to not notice these things. Especially when those people are trained for battle.”

Bruce’s heart-rate has risen and his ears feel scorching hot.

“Don’t worry; we ship thee.” Loki adds, dragging out the ‘ _thee’_ for maximum effect. The red panda in his arms making the whole image even more eccentric.

(It wasn’t a very wise move to let him get on the Internet. They are all going to regret this terribly one day, Bruce is sure of that.)

 Bruce clears his throat, trying to keep his blushing under control. He turns back to his notes, fiddling with the pen in his fingers, trying to ignore Loki’s words and knowing looks and smiles. It’s like living with two Tonys sometimes.

A few minutes pass, Loki has started whistling an unknown tune, no wonder playing with Bruce’s mind, for he finally has enough and, without turning, Bruce asks what has been eating at him since Loki had spoken.

“You said something about a potion, what did you mean?”

The whistling stops. Loki shrugs. “I’ve read once about a magic potion that with the proper herbs could keep a beast at bay for a certain pass of time. I guess that with the right alternations it could hold even Hulk back from emerging in. . . _inappropriate_ situations.”

Bruce fixes his gaze on the mage’s eyes. “Have you tried it?”

Loki smiles cheekily at him. “Of course! I once had to drug a warlock with it to keep him from transforming into vicious dragons so Thor could slaughter him!” Even though it must be a crude memory Loki is smiling cheerfully and it looks quite wrong on his young face.

Bruce takes a moment to think of it and then nods in decision.

“Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

  

Thor, Natasha and Bucky return to the sight of Loki throwing blasts of magic at Bruce out on the balcony.

“Loki, what are you even doing?” Thor bellows, running to his brother’s side, who has the insolence to _shush him._

“Not now, brother, we are close to a breakthrough!” Loki pants from exertion, throwing blast after blast of green magic at their friend.

Thor’s eyebrows furrow in wonder, but he keeps his mouth shut and out of the way. 

They are all equal parts mortified and intrigued when they notice how Hulk does not come out even after half an hour has passed. The fact tingles something deep in Thor’s memory, but he cannot quite grasp its nature. Maybe it’s simply one of those déjà-vu moments.

When the avocado-shaped cooking clock beside Loki’s feet hit the one hour mark, Loki ceases his attacking and whoops into the air, running to high five Bruce who is also heaving for breath, tired, but very much human and not green.

“We did it!” they keep chanting, acting like little kids that were told they would go for a trip to Alfheim’s waterfalls.

Loki then turns and runs back to Thor, falling onto him with such momentum Thor has to take a couple of steps back and hold onto Loki when he jumps onto him, wrapping legs and arms around him, akin to a sloth they had once met in their trip to South America.

 “Loki, what-” Thor huffs a laugh, still confused when Loki draws back, resting his weight on Thor’s forearms around the small of his back and his own legs wrapped around Thor’s hips.

“Our ship will finally sail!” Loki exclaims, cutting through Thor’s question.

It doesn’t help, Thor gets even more confused. What ship? He is pretty sure they do not own any ships as of late, but if Loki wants one he could ask Tony or Lady Pepper for their insight on the matter and find one worthy for Loki.

Loki laughs in delight, moving back in to hug Thor’s neck and whisper to his ear. “I’ll explain later.” He doesn’t make a single move to get back on his feet though, instead holding Thor close, taking in his warmth and the post-battle scent clinging onto him – gunpowder, sweat and _Thor;_ electricity, the smell of freshly watered grass and sun. Loki loves this mix most of all, it soothes something deep inside him. Makes him feel safe. _Home._

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry" Thor mutters one evening, lips brushing on Loki's hair. They are reading _A Tale of Two Cities_ , seated and slotted together on their couch, a quiet night alone.

"For what?" asks Loki, turning to glance with his big eyes at Thor.

"For leaving you on Svartalfheim."

Loki scoffs in reply, turning his eyes back on the book. "It's alright; you had to save the world." he says, flippantly and resumes reading aloud.

Thor smiles sadly, suddenly filled with regret at the painful memories.

It isn't alright and he knows it. He should have taken Loki's body along with him, not just secure him in a cave, left to retrieve later on. And _if_ Loki had really died then give him the burial deserved for a prince, a person loved.

But he couldn't stand the thought of watching his brother's body on the long-boat, veil over his head while everything around him burned. Thor was a coward like this, preferring to leave him getting sullied by beasts and time as he had imagined it had happened when he finally had found the courage to go back and retrieve his beloved’s body, getting some kind of coveted closure, only for him to find desert and dust.

He will never cease faulting himself for his selfishness. Time and time again he had done Loki wrong, even after he couldn't really anymore. He knows it isn't alright, for if Loki was whole he would have already screamed and yelled, spitting vitriol at Thor's face, at his so-called honour, for all of Thor's misdeeds regarding him.

This Loki is not him.

The malice and the poison, the deviltry and the jealousy, the arrogance of a beautiful prince and his pride – all that and more were what made Loki himself, embedded in his very core, complimenting the way he loved without demur, his loyalty and precious existence best. For Thor knew that if he got Loki to give one of his brilliant smiles it was a gift well-kept.

Now, Thor understands that, but now it's too late. Now, Loki is a shell of his former self, keeping only the good, nothing bad.

And, even if he currently has Loki in his arms, he cannot help but miss him all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headanon that Thor is a sucker for Jane Austen, Harlequin books and all around romantic stuff, actually getting _stressed_ if the main couple will end up together or not. The fact he can relate to the forbidden love bit is a great bonus! ;)


	7. My Nanny Senses Aren’t Tingling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Loki should have never met, indeed. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is 16 yooo

Tony was right.

In that _something-bad-is-going-to-happen_ sense of way he’s got with predicting disasters long before they happen. It’s a talent, really, one that in his line of work has saved his skin more times than not.

He thinks to himself that he has definitely called it. He had warned everyone time after time, but did anyone ever listen to him? No.

_No!_

And now, they are faced with the disastrous aftermath; each and every one of them staring dumbfounded at the chaos around them. Machines are scrapping their way down the streets, sporting vicious looking teeth and eyes, looking like they jumped directly from a cliché 80’s horror movie; ice cream is melting everywhere all around them and angry trees are whipping and hitting anything and anyone they can with their unrelenting branches. And on top of all that, an army of Doombots laughs sinisterly while they attempt to take over anything they can.

Peter and Loki should have never met, indeed. . .

 

* * *

  

It starts a little like this; Doctor Doom had unleashed armies of Doombots in Edinburgh, London and Paris at the same time. The Fantastic 4 were in need of obvious assistance in fighting them off at all fronts.

The Avengers, old and new, were to head there immediately, and all should have been nice and brave and dandy, but in truth it left them with a great 6 foot 4”– _Thor –_ and another 5 feet 7” – _Loki –_ problems at hand.

Thor because of his great unwillingness to leave Loki behind on his own, because _what is going to happen if while we are in Europe the Doombots attack New York? Loki won’t be able to fight them off all alone!_

And he was right too. Thor was so right that they _had_ to leave someone behind as the last line of defense more than ever before. Everyone agreed!

And this was how Loki stood as their second problem; _nobody wanted to leave him behind._

(Loki might currently look like a sixteen-year-old and not his adorable little kid-self, however, his magic has a short caliber and even shorter duration, and the thought of leaving him behind does unsettle them all.)

Thinking about it now, the best choice would be basically _anyone else_ than Peter.

(Sans Wade Wilson. The guy’s a gigantic red, highlighted thrice, _N-O._ Even in the far off chance of every other person on earth perishing and him being the only one available! Hell, Tony cannot comprehend who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to put _him_ in his precious, innocent Peter’s side. Damn them to hell whoever they might be for putting Tony through the torture of many sleepless nights waiting up for Peter to call in.)

 Tony tried vetoing the proposition, but he also wanted the nineteen-year-old out of danger – and as far away from Wilson as possible, but one cannot have everything they wish for – and Steve had used exactly _this_ manipulative card to persuade him. So, unheeding of Tony’s warnings they took off with the _Godly Biceps Express TM_ and were in London between one blink and the other.

Well, jokes on them.

 

* * *

  

They are at an impasse.

Thor is bristling. Glaring almightily at Fury through the screen, but the man is meeting his stare with a nerve not many had the guts to show in Thor’s life. He has his arms crossed on his chest, biceps bulging with how tight he grips his forearms and he tries to ignore the light touch of Loki’s hand on his waist, along with his beloved eyes that are looking at Thor expectantly.

“Thor, may I have a word.” It’s not really a question; Loki’s tone is holding something of his old self in it, demanding and knowing no request of his should ever be met with rejection, superior from them all.

Thor huffs through his nose, throwing a last warning look at Fury before relenting and following his brother to the playroom of the common floor.

“I know what you are going to say and let me inform you it won’t happen.” Thor stares at him, interjecting before Loki has the chance to speak.

Loki sighs, struts the few steps separating them and sneaks his wiry arms under Thor’s, encasing his brother’s torso in their hold. Thor tries to resist, keep his arms ramrod straight on his sides and not cave in, because he knows if he relaxes he will be done for. He will turn to putty under Loki’s deft fingers, willing to take any shape the mage wants and follow any of his demands.

However Loki doesn’t speak. He simply rests the side of his face on Thor’s left collarbone, keeping his eyes open while listening to Thor’s steady _thump-thump-thump_.

“Loki. . .” Thor grumbles, because Loki makes it so hard to resist.

(Loki had always had this unique way of bending Thor to his whims, Thor’s misplaced affections constituting it harder to resist. As if he ever really could.)

He takes another minute of keeping up the cheap façade of self-restraint before he is relenting under Loki’s silent ministrations, raising his hands to engulf his still slight form into them.

If Thor is one thing, then that is a sucker for Loki’s obvious shows of affection, where Loki is soft under his hands, unmistakably warm and _alive_.

It is one of the reasons Thor is being thwarted so easily lately, purely by a kind smile or a tight hug.

In fact, it is a miracle Thor is fortunate enough to hold him in blatant love and display his care in a way he never really could before, when they were scrutinized by the palace’s courtiers, council and sycophants. Each of Thor and Loki’s steps and actions taken in utmost consideration; each demonstration of their manners getting dissected by their scholars and governesses who were invariably ready to put them back in place for showing the barest hint of improper affection after a certain age had come to pass.

It’s all Thor had missed for more than a thousand years; being able to shower his brother with the devotion he so much deserved, get caught with him in playful bets and well-meaning jokes that missed the malice and jealousy of their more recent centuries together.

Thor finds himself wishing often enough for things to have been like this in the past; easy, companionable, without them needing all the shit that have happened to see just how much exactly one meant to the other. Thor wishes he could have the power to go back in the past and berate himself for treating Loki with aloofness and coldness when in all truth what he had always wanted was to wrap Loki in with his love.

But, while he cannot do that, he has the chance of redeeming himself in this heaven-bestowed second chance Loki has favoured him with.

“You are not strong enough yet to fend off an attack of this caliber all by yourself.” A kiss on Loki’s head and his green eyes fall shut, breathing deeply through his nose.

“I know.” He admits. “But you have to go and I have to stay. So, I will have a deal with you.”

The palm of Thor’s hand cups the back of Loki’s head – taller than half a year ago, Loki now reaches to his chin, making it easier for Thor to kiss his forehead or cup his face.

(Loki’s deals had always been like a game of the Midgardians’ Russian roulette, never knowing when it was the bullet’s turn, when it would backfire and all would come to an unexpected close. His words slippery like a flexible snake; forever ready to attack or slither away.)

Thor hums, trying to stay focused in every word that will leave those easily lying lips.

“I will teleport to safety if trouble finds me, but you have to promise me you will come back unwounded and victorious.”

There’s a glint in Loki’s smirk, reminiscent of many olden times. Challenging and baiting. And Thor, forever the besotted fool, falls in this smile’s trap every time.

( _I would have a deal with you_ , Loki would say, cheekily with eyes bright in the morning’s sun, _I will do the work our scholar’s will have you do for the duration of an entire month, but you will have to get me one of Idunn’s apples in exchange._ And Thor would. Not for the price, but for the chance of seeing Loki smile in overt happiness while feigning disinterest at Thor’s scrapes and bruises from where he had been scratched on the sacred apple trees or where he had tripped over his feet and fallen in his way to escape the Goddess' reprimanding.

Always falling for his words, for his vagaries like the fool he is and forever will be.)

Thor lets out an exhale and shags against his brother, hiding his face into his black tresses, uncaring of the little horned band etched via magic on his forehead as the tiny tips touch Thor’s cheek – an imitation of his royal helmet as well as a humble stand-in for his splendidly curving Jötunn horns . He murmurs a reluctant ‘ _deal’_ against Loki’s hair. He is afraid to leave him behind, but he knows Loki, no matter his lies and deceptions, was never one to back off from a deal.

If he says he will get to safety then he will. Thor only needs to hold his end of the bargain.

They hold each other for long minutes, using the short while of reprieve they get to calm their nerves and, when they walk back, Thor’s expression is still tight, but not screaming murder.

Steve and Tony do on the other hand. At each other.

“This is not happening! Forget it!”

“It’s the wisest choice, Tony!”

“Do you know what might happen with the both of them teamed up?”

“You can’t even be sure they will actually get along! Stop hypothesizing!”

“Either way the result will be disastrous! There’s no way those two together won’t cause catastrophe!”

“What are they arguing about?” Loki asks Bruce, who in turn looks at him, at Thor and then the fighting duo before letting out a long-suffering sigh. Natasha’s hand is on his shoulder in an instant, rubbing soothing circles on the stiff muscles.

“Steve wants to bring in Peter. Tony objects the thought vehemently.” She informs.

“The spider-kid?” Thor asks, getting acknowledging nods in reply. “I see no reason why this would not be a wise idea!” A bright smile begins forming on his lips upon the thought. Peter is an easy-going kind of guy, sure to get on well with Loki _and_ strong enough to protect if needed.

Natasha grimaces and Bruce sighs again, both already having caught up with Tony’s theory and unmistakably disagreeing with Thor.

“Tony,” Steve’s voice turns gentle, a hand reaches for the other’s shoulder. “You want him out of danger, don’t you?”

And really, that’s it. This is what makes Tony succumb. Steve might not show it, but he is a very manipulative bastard. Thor had always thought it, for Thor knows when he sees one, having grown up with the biggest manipulator of the Nine Realms.

Tony stares at him like struck; fawn-like eyes open wide in shock, a gleam of nonconsensual appreciation appearing in his eyes before he throws his hands in the air, dramatically groaning for the entire world to see and hear his abhorrence.

“It’s on you if everything goes to Hell! And trust me, _it will_.” He announces and takes out his phone to dial the kid.

 

* * *

  

"Hi, man!” Peter exclaims, filled with seemingly unending amounts of energy. He is a lanky young man, jittery and unable to stand still for more than a few seconds at a time. He is all easy smiles and one of the new members Thor likes best.

“I am Peter, and you are?" Peter smiles broadly undeterred by the obvious tension in the air, reaching a hand out to ruffle Loki’s floppy hair in his overly friendly attitude.

A hand that hovers mid-air and quickly retracts when the boy introduces himself with a light curl of his lips. "Prince Loki of Asgard." he says in that slick way of his that drives his words to slither their way into one’s mind, wrap around their brain-cells and tinker with their understanding and consciousness.

They had decided during a small emergency conference before Peter had arrived that it would be best if the boy knew exactly who he had before him. And so, here they are, waiting to see his reaction upon meeting the terror of New York’s recent past.

Peter gulps, face going lax with shock, big eyes widening even more. His reaction drags out longer than necessary and they are all holding their breaths, ready to step in if Peter tries to attack.

(It's really awe-inducing how the only thought they have is to _protect_ _Loki_ from an Avenger instead of the other way around. Paradoxically different to what they would have done with no second thought four years ago. It only shows the way they have warmed up to the little God and have come to call him family that, not even for a second, they are think of what _Thor_ would do if he felt his brother being threatened, but that _they_ wouldn't stand on the sidelines if that was the matter.)

Natasha has already adopted her fighting stance and is ready to stop Peter if he as much as moves his fingers when he starts stuttering out a string of barely comprehensible words.

" _Loki_? _T-the Half-mad Vi-Villain? Th-the Invasionist? The Bringer of Truth?!_ "

Loki is looking at him with his little smirk in place while the youth spouts out more titles given to him by humans, no wonder gathered by spending too many nights on the internet.

(Loki has done his own research too, he knows everything that is being said about him and Thor, about his invasion and his new identity as _Balder Odinson_ , a brother they never had had, another mistake in the tales regaling the Godly royal family to and by the Midgardians, but one that have come in handy for the brothers. )

The others are looking at him like he is sprouting nonsense. Thor is trying to hide his smile because he knows where this is going to; he has been present one too many times when an avid someone, fan of Loki's treatises and magical deeds had the luck to cross paths with the fetching Prince in the past and it had always, one way or another, came down to the same reaction.

" _Oh! My!_ _God!_ I am _so excited_ to meet you, your Majesty!" Peter squeaks finally.

 _"_ What?!" Natasha asks.

“ _What?!_ ” Steve yelps.

Tony gasps in utter horror. “ _WHAT?!_ ”

It’s like a well-practiced chorus, uttered in the exact same time, sporting various expressions of bewilderment as they stare at Peter holding both palms of his hands against his cheeks and looking almost reverently at Loki.

Thor chuckles, his laugh a booming sound that bounces on the walls of the room and makes Loki's arrogant smirk tilt this way of affectionate. Thor doesn’t try to correct the boy on his addressing of the Prince and Loki notices it.

His heart warms in devastating bliss.

 

* * *

  

They hit it off almost instantly, Loki shining under the attention the boy is showing him, in how Peter is similar to a pup following obediently after its master. The Avengers take a few good minutes of watching them dumbfounded as Peter fires out one question after the other, holding notes in his StarkPad of every word that leaves Loki’s mouth, looking upon him with wondrous eyes, asking if he’s _allowed_ to take his pictures.

(Tony is a little grouchy, bitching about it all the way through the cleaning of the first wave of Doombots. Thor is secretly laughing as he makes his way through the second, listening to Tony huffing and puffing unstoppably.)

 

* * *

  

“You really ruled Asgard for two whole years under everyone’s noses?” Peter asks, remembering what Mr. Stark had told him about the mage, leading Loki in another long tale of his overthrowing of Odin and his marvelous time in Asgard’s throne.

He can’t but notice though, how Loki’s eyes stay empty while he answers questions about his past, his voice taking a cold kind of tone that it misses when he talks about more recent times.

It is a peculiar sight, adverse to the easy going psyche Loki shows most of the time and he wonders if it’s a side-effect of his rebirth or if it’s due to wells of reluctance to really come to terms with his dreadful past. He has to ask Mr. Stark when he has the chance.

Likewise, Loki is so much different than the image he had casted a decade ago, he doesn’t remind of the subjugating madman any way Peter tries to look at him. He obviously does look younger than the man caught on record, yet he doesn’t look to be having any nefarious thoughts, a substance that was meant to be intrinsic to one’s personality; considering it was quite easy a thing to go bad, but arduous to return into being a good person.

However, Loki had somehow accomplished that exact thing, showing great reservoirs of calmness and good-natured humour, patience that not even Peter’s closest friends had shown upon being faced with his obsessions. Not  even when Peter had tripped and bumped onto the Prince, causing him to stumble and fall gracelessly on his butt on the evening of their first day together, had Loki turned to give him as much as a dirty look, simply chuckling as he got up on his feet, towering over Peter and dusted off his maroon jeans.

It is extremely interesting and Peter has a lot of theories going on already regarding the matter that he will have to share with Ned in the first opportunity.  

“Man, I wish I had powers like yours!” Peter whines, letting his back thump back on the roof’s landing matt, looking at the orange sky as the sun sets.

“Why, aren’t the characteristics of a spider enough?” Loki asks, genuinely perplexed, for having the senses of animals and insects had always been his favourite part of transformative magic. He cannot comprehend how anyone could not be content to have powers like those.

“It is, don’t get me wrong, but it all happened out of the blue for me.” Peter says, melancholic smile on his face. “I wasn’t born with the abilities of a spider, like some of the X-Men might have. I was bitten, you know, kind like a vampire or a werewolf would. I changed overnight.”

(If Loki hadn’t spent the last two years watching occult movies with Tony in his try to _“educate”_ them, then no, he wouldn’t know what the boy was referring to. Things like immortal blood-sucking monsters and howling at the moon, crazed half-human wolves don’t exist in any world Loki has visited. The ones that do exist, Loki isn’t certain humans could withstand as much as the thought of their horridness and ferociousness. But thanks to Tony and his “ _Totally Necessary”_ need to make them watch shitty pop culture movies, he does know of them now. He and Thor do enjoy hooting and shouting at the TV, throwing popcorn at ridiculous, half-witted characters than now close to nothing about survival.)

“What would you do if you had my powers?” inquires Loki, watching the sun set to the second day spent with the Spiderman. He’s truly interested in the kid’s answer. What would an orphaned, nerd-gone-vigilante human do in case he could possess Loki’s immense power? Would he use it for good or, drunk from the overwhelming force, would he seek revenge by conquering entire nations? Would he turn towards necromancy to bring his loved ones back to life like Loki remembers his older self contemplated doing time and time again?

Peter chuckles while he thinks, raising a hand to throw tiny wisps of spider-web in the air.

“Shut Wade’s mouth for starters - God, I would pay for a few moments of silence instead of his shitty sense of sarcasm.”

Loki thinks he has heard the name before, coming in grumbled mutters of words from Tony’s mouth. And while Peter is grouching about the other person, Loki can make out a really well-veiled tint of affection. _Hmm, interesting. . ._

“Then I would probably transfigure all the ice cream I wanted whenever I wanted. I just _love_ ice cream.” Peter stresses, making a grimace to match.

_That is actually a really good idea._

“Transfigure ice cream you say. . .”

“What? Isn’t this the right word? Then maybe summon or utilize or-”

“No, no! It _is_ the perfect word! For you can turn whatever you want into anything you’ve thought. It’s perfectly edible, too!”

Peter leans up on his elbows, looking at him cautiously. “Like, say, a car?”

Loki nods and smirks.

“Look down there.” He says and Peter gets up to look where Loki is pointing at. Right before his eyes, an expensive looking SUV turns into an ice cream cart. Pedestrians are shouting in shock, pointing and taking pictures. Some of them, the braver ones, even go to check it out, see for themselves if it’s real or an illusion.

A second car turns into a mountain of three-coloured sweetness and Loki without saying a word teleports down there, summoning a bowl and a spoon in his hand from thin air, filling it with scoops of ice cream.

“ _Your Majesty!_ _Mister Loki, Sir!_ ” Peter hisses in worry when he lands beside him, already in Spiderman’s suit, careful to not speak loud enough and attract attention. Which is really a stupid thought, for they already have all the attention turned onto them; the sight of the earth’s most adorable sweetheart and their adored little superhero teamed up is akin to a light bulb calling to moths. “I don’t think this is wise. This is somebody’s property.”

Loki looks at him with big innocent eyes while sucking on his spoonful, not understanding Peter’s unease. It’s all some good old fun, nothing too serious.

“Easy there, Peter, it will all turn back with a simple flick of my fingers.”

Peter is a little skeptical, but people all around him are exclaiming in giddiness and stuffing themselves full with free ice cream in this hot day of July and who is he to kill their buzz?

So, he shrugs and accepts the bowl and spoon Loki offers him. He's still benign, young mind unheeding of any immediate danger.

 

* * *

  

Loki’s magic first acts up while he is going through his third cone of ice cream. He has already eaten two other bowlfuls and accepted four waffle-wraps from people titling themselves as his fans.

Peter has abandoned any try to consume any more after his second cone and fourth waffle-wrap, clutching his belly and complaining about a full stomach and frozen brain.

It is hours after they had initially landed on the streets, having spent most of them showing each-other their parkour skills and things they could do with their webs and magic, hiding in the veil of the darkening night when they weren’t mingling with the normal people, trading stories and consuming sweets Loki had magicked up.

The first sign Loki gets is a tingling in his gut, then his fingers shine the brilliant moss green of his essence before it explodes in a burst.

“Oh, no.” he mutters, shocked eyes taking in the trembling chocolate fountain mere moments before it gurgles and sends a wave of chocolate in all seven of the rainbow colours to splatter on everyone around it in a thirty feet radius. Loki gets an ironic blue blob on his cheek and Peter a yellow one on his head.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks in alarm.

Loki has no answer and no time to answer before his hands glow again and this time the trees lining the street shake, leaves whooshing through the air as the branches start smacking onto anyone they can. It reminds him of the _Whomping Willow_ from the _Harry Potter_ book series he had read a fortnight ago with Thor.

(Even if a lot of things were inconsistent and out of his spectrum of reality he can admit it was a great rendition of fictional storytelling. They had both greatly enjoyed reading it, sprawled on their bed or the couch, huddled up together as they were. An unwilling shiver runs down Loki’s spine at the memory of Thor’s fingers combing through his tresses.)  

“Oh, no!” He shouts when a branch swishes right beside his cheek, jumping to the side. Loki tries to concentrate, to will his magic turn it all as they were, but what happens is the exact opposite; more trees turn vigilant, more machines explode unstoppably and to top it all off some of them growl out roars and begin chasing after screaming people. The caricatures on the chariots are suddenly alive.

(If Loki is one thing then this is, in Peter’s amazed words, _hella extra._ He had always been an avid devotee on going the extra mile for a prank or a plan to be perfect. This is why the streets of Manhattan aren’t only filled with dessert buffets, but also with grand chariots. Turning the night into a true festival of sorts.)

“Your Majesty! Can you stop that?”

“I am trying!” Loki grunts through clenched teeth. He refocuses, emptying his mind and tugging at the ropes of magic inside him, thinking of what he needs it to do. He transforms into an owl instead.

Loki crows in annoyance!

“Oh my God!” Peter yelps, equal parts mortified and awed. “This is so cool!”

 _It’s not the right time, kid!_ Loki flaps his wings, turning his head to look at the ensuing chaos he has not intended to cause for once.

Whirring comes from the east, more machines making their way down the streets of Manhattan. A sinister looking yellow-green glow spreads behind them and, if Loki is not mistaken, those are Doombots following behind, glowing in their aluminum casing and green capes.

Loki has no way of keeping his end of the deal with Thor. And if there is one thing Loki hates with all of his tiny cold heart it’s not keeping his promises to his precious brother.

“Excuse me, Mister Loki, but I think it will be better if I get you on the Tower.” Peter turns and takes Loki’s owl form in his arms, careful to not squish him against his chest. “Right about _now!_ ” he yells, elevating them with the help of a spider-web and abandoning the floor behind them a moment before a Doombot attacks where they had stood.

 

* * *

  

Loki tries to turn back in human form, however he transforms into a snake instead. And again into a bat. And then into a dolphin. And a giraffe, a bilgesnipe, a three-headed horse, a giant serpent and so forth. For the good part of an hour he tries to transform back or teleport, but it. Just. _Won’t. Happen!_

Peter is off somewhere, fighting the machines and the Doombots, speaking to Loki through Karen and Jarvis after having barricaded the young mage in his and Thor’s rooms. _“Better not be in the penthouse; this is where all the bad guys like to attack first.”_ Peter had reasoned, looking apologetically at Loki.

 _I am aware of this, for I was one of the bad guys, too!_ Loki wanted to shout; greatly annoyed with this _farce_ , but what came out was a rather loud and long bleat.

(He had momentarily forgotten that he was currently in the shape of a goat. Loki had bleated again in dismay and watched Peter leaving through his beady, creepy eyes. Long black ears drooped at the sides of his head.)

Now, he sighs tiredly in the form of a low _chirp_ and perches on the highest self of the bookshelf – already spilling with books – in his and Thor’s private living room. Loki is too tired to continue his testing, so he has decided to wait out this weird funk until it goes away. He shuts his eyes upon thinking of Thor; no wonder coming back from battle, tired and worn, only to find another mess to clean up.

Loki's so screwed.

He fluffs up his little yellow wings and settles in for a nap as a helpless canary.

 

* * *

  

"The droids I get; the rest of the mess is what’s hard for me to grasp." Natasha muses through their in-ears.

Thor nods in acquiescence, lips forming a big upside-down smile in grimace. He has an idea of what – or _who_ – may be behind the carnival mess, but he isn’t going to say a word, not until he has all the clues gathered and Loki in front of him looking in Thor’s eyes with the kind of expression that screams he _is_ the one culpable for it.

(The number of people he knew who could transfigure confectionery out of inanimate objects had forever been limited to only two. And he is pretty sure Mother has nothing to do with it.)

Tony curses while somersaulting out of the way of a beam of green blaze and Thor can hear him asking Friday to connect him with Spiderman’s AI.

“I might not know how, but I know it was your and Loki’s fault.” Tony announces and Thor cannot listen to the kid’s reply, but he has the same gut feeling as Tony does. “Now start by telling me what happened.”

And Peter does. The whole team can listen to his explanation when they get set on the same radio frequency as him and a teamed up groan resounds from their places. Thor’s is a mix between a groan and a laugh, because how the hell could he had forgotten the many years spent fearing Loki’s sudden outbursts of magic when they were kids, easily energized by a bar of sugary goodness, spreading terror in the palace’s halls.

(The outbursts were as big and awe-inducing as Thor’s unleashed thunder; both with powers bigger than their little and young vessels could discipline, spreading catastrophe in their wake, sending the royal couple’s peers scrambling to cover themselves from incoming shrapnel or debris. Thor remembers how the laughter would spill from both of their lips whenever Loki’s magic acted up, delighted with the chaos it would cause or the attracted glint in Loki’s eyes when Thor accidentally summoned the storm. He wonders if that was when Loki found an outlet for his frustrations in the cruel decongestion of his power, remembering the countless times Thor had ventured into Loki’s rooms in search of his brother only to find the place trashed.)

The Doombots aren’t a worthy enough enemy to fight although they are upgraded from last time and what takes them more time to annihilate are Loki’s little machines of mischief.

And the trees.

The damn trees that keep whipping Iron Man in the air, regardless of any momentum he might get before attacking. The slippery branches that tangle around Stormbreaker and render him useless in Thor’s hands seeing as Thor attempts to grab him back only for him to be pulled into a childish game of tug with the offending tree. The Widow has several tiny cuts on her face and a long gush on her forehead that sluggishly spits blood and her expression is furious at such disgrace – _to be losing from a tree, unacceptable!_

Steve is an entire different matter. Having lost his shield a good ten minutes ago, he had tried to fight off the trees with bare hands, something that was not very wise and, upon second thought when a sprig curls around his leg and tangles him upside-down in the air, _was_ quite stupid of him.

Spiderman’s webs have absolutely nothing against the vengeful logs.

Only Hulk’s raw power has some result as he uproots huge trees from the ground as if they are annoying weeds in a flower garden. But still, the branches keep whopping at anything they can, even him.

 

* * *

  

The sun is slowly rising in the horizon and the streets are empty save the Avengers who uselessly try to fight against the manifestations of Loki’s power. They are tired beyond comprehending thoughts. Tony has picked back up bitching an hour into the unfair fight while Steve’s potty mouth made an appearance two hours ago. Thor is still going on strong, but he’s had enough.

They had been fighting for close to three days now in several places of the earth and Thor would kill for some quiet time spent relaxing with his brother. The cursed trees though don’t seem keen in helping with the _killing_ part.

Thor roars in frustration when another branch trips him and spanks him on the ass three times in quick succession.

_The insolence!_

“Everyone get back.” He orders and it shows how tired they all are when they take their distance without complaining or trying to do something bravely idiotic.

Thor gets on his feet and calls Stormbreaker in his hand – which comes after sort reluctance from the branch holding him – gripping his handle tightly as he concentrates and opens his eyes. Seeing everything behind a fog of bright white-blue light, he unleashes raw power, burning the trees to a crisp.

In a moment the whooshing filling the air stops, spreading a wave of blessed silence in its place.

He can hear his friends whooping and sighing in relief, but Thor takes off instantly, landing on his and Loki’s balcony while still spitting electricity from his eyes and fingers.

“Loki!” He roars. Not in frustration, but in need. A need etched deep in his soul for knowing about his brother’s well-being.

A startled canary chirps and flies from its perch on the bookshelf, landing into Thor’s awaiting palm, knowing in an instant upon seeing the bird.

“Oh, brother.” Thor laughs in relief and brings the tiny bird closer to nuzzle on its head, mindful of the smallest horned golden headband in all the Nine, perched on the canary’s head. “I’ll wait for you.”

 

* * *

 

 It takes three full days for Loki to work out the excess of energy, having turned into a fine black steed after Thor took him to Texas to run around until he had no more to give and fell on the ground, transforming back in a heap of long limbs and fluffy black hair. A sweaty mess in the middle of the wide open space.

Thor gives him the brightest of smiles then. Extending a big hand to help Loki on his feet, tugging him in an affectionate hug.

“Welcome back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this a chapter without angst? Yes, yes it was!  
> Am I feeling okay? No, I don’t!
> 
> Title for this could have been the cliché _“Calm Before The Storm”_ , instead I chose to go with cheap transformative renditions of original titles. Some of the contestants were:  
>  _“The Amazing (#not) Nanny-Man”_ , _“Nannycoming”_ , _“The Nanny-Man”_ , _“Your Friendly (But Quite Useless) Nanny-Man”_ and _“Far From Babysitting”_  
>  It was a hard battle, all contestants showed great valor and strength, but in the end, they were all eradicated in the sake of cheesy humour!
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed and maybe even laughed a little!  
> Hard times are coming ahead for our sons~ ^_^
> 
> P.S. I do appreciate every comment, kudos, subscription and bookmark, so to show my love I decided when (if) this story hits 500 kudos to take _Brighter Days_ prompts of moments you have wanted to see so far and compile them all in a nice oneshot or insert them in future chapters! So keep your heads up, hit me up on [tumblr](https://theangrykimchi.tumblr.com/) and continue to be amazing!


	8. Dazed And Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the signs start showing, Thor is hyperaware to let them go unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17-ish

Months pass by without an accident akin to the one with Peter. Loki’s magic is still unstable and gives little frightening bursts from time to time, despite Thor’s attempts at keeping his baby brother’s consumption of sweet things to a minimum so they won’t have any other release like _that_ one; Loki is nothing if not incredibly skilled at sniffing out candy and confectionery and Thor has to find new hiding places every few days because Loki always manages to discover the stash Thor is keeping for and from him.

They also keep Loki’s dangerous sweet tooth a secret from the rest of their friends lest they stop gifting him with treats from their several trips around the world. Thor is practically jubilant each time one of their friends’ returns home, tired and worn out, but making sure to hug Loki and pass him something intended for him before stalking to their apartments.

(It reminds Thor of when he returned from excursions in their long past, making sure to bring back some prized thing or another that Loki would appreciate or could use in his spell-casting.)

Thor’s heart is wrapped in warmth at how splendidly his brother’s presence is being received.

 

* * *

 

One day Tony has enough of the brothers’ ignorance and decides it’s high time to introduce them to Classic Rock and legend bands like _AC/DC, Queen_ and _Scorpions_ ; Thor's personal favourite quickly become _Led Zeppelin_. The traditional sound of their ukulele and their unique way of storytelling, a familiar sound in his ears. He spends hours listening to their songs, a mixed wave of pride and loss constricting his chest at the remembrance of his people.

At moments like these, Loki, attuned to Thor’s moods as he seems to be, walks up to him and wraps his thin arms around Thor’s middle or shoulders from behind, hitching his chin atop his brother’s shoulder while offering silent comfort that manages greatly more in soothing over the hurt Thor feels than any word could.

(Thor might have Loki returned to his side, however, he will never be successful in leaving behind the most important failure of his life: their people, an obliterated race due to Thor’s weakness in standing strong as their King.)

Loki on the other hand, while he is quite fond of the old band, he is more into another, newer one; _Imagine Dragons_ have stolen his little heart.

Loki keeps murmuring their songs all day long under his breath, and even aloud at Thor, if only to see him smiling.

So, Thor surprises him with VIP tickets to their _‘live’_ one day – without help from anyone, mind you – and thus, he gets to see Loki’s face smiling as he’s singing at the top of his lungs while multicoloured lights play games over his pale skin.

His hair is cut shorter than Thor ever remembers him keeping it; the sides are more shaved the lower they are to his head while the top strands are quite long, kept back from falling in his eyes with a magicked golden headband that runs only the expanse of his hairline on the top of his forehead. There is dark kohl lining his eyes, causing them to appear even brighter at the bold contrast, matching the emerald stone on the barbell earring in his left lobe. His cheeks are pink and sweat is glistening on his neck, even when the black leather biker’s jacket he has been wearing gets abandoned on their seats, leaving him in a tight dark forest green blouse and dark ripped jeans.

He is the pure image of passion as his keen eyes take everything in, not missing a single moment from the band’s performance – Thor likes them well enough, however, at the moment he couldn’t have cared less.

Thor is wondering if the chance of falling in love again with the same person is a sound enough logic when Loki turns and serenades him with the song he has set as Thor’s contact ringtone when it comes up.

(Loki has even enchanted the doorways to most rooms of the Tower that Thor uses so a surrounding chorus of _Thunder_ will announce his entrance whenever he enters. Which Thor actually relishes in, exploiting the chance of a dramatic entrance to the fullest. )

(In all truth, the fact that Loki, most times than not, ends up on the floor with tears caused by his whizzing laughter is what has Thor continuing with this silly jest and doesn’t put an end to it even when their friends start complaining.)  

When Thor smiles down at him and raises a fist in the air, calling a bolt of lightning and resounding thunder to boom around the stadium, Loki’s gleeful laugh is the only thing heard in the abrupt silence. He watches him as he throws his head back and laughs in delight, long alabaster neck exposed for the lights to dance on and Thor aches from the affection filling his chest, the desire that had been pushed in the back of his mind for the past years and is now springing forward with thoughts he shouldn’t have.

 _“Everyone, give us a cheer for the Thunderer!”_ the band’s singer exclaims after having come out of shock himself, pointing at Thor before continuing on with the song. The rest of the program goes on without any more disruptions.

In the end of the night, Loki’s cheeks are flushed; he is cheering-screaming like everyone else while Thor tightens his hold on his lean thighs, trying to balance Loki’s precarious perch on his shoulders.

The two Gods sign on as many autographs as the band does and Loki is like an excited child when he speaks with them about their inspirations, their skills and music. They are terribly flattered by the Gods’ genuine interest.

(Thor has to agree that a lot of their songs _are_ quite relatable as Loki says; especially the ones with a more medieval sort of feeling or, in Thor’s case, the ones landing a little too close to his fear of failure.)

When they get back home it is well past midnight and Loki, while still jittery with excitement, is stumbling on his feet, tired from that much enthusiasm and last night’s restless sleep.

Thor watches him as Loki brushes his teeth, half-asleep on his feet and kisses the side of his face in an action filled with immeasurable amounts of love before lifting him in his arms to tuck into bed. Praying for restful slumber unlike the past week’s.

“Thank you, Thor,” Loki mumbles, huddling in close to Thor, warm breath whispering over the skin of his neck, “it was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

Thor’s heart constricts in familiar melancholy, wishing he could have prized Loki-of-old with similar courteous actions before it was too late. But alas, he has to continue living with the regrets while ascertaining to give this Loki as many dear memories as he couldn’t give him in the past.    

 

* * *

 

And just like this, they near the mark of the five years since Loki had been reborn. It’s good and fun times, mostly. Years spent in nearly childlike buoyancy, with no real purpose than to heal and grow. And they do grow; as men relaxed in their skin, adapting again to the other’s close proximity and how it would have been if they had done that years, _centuries_ ago.

There comes a morning when Thor wakes up and cannot comprehend how it would feel if they fell back to their olden ways; avoiding, ignoring and antagonizing each other. _Fighting._ It would most probably rip Thor’s heart right out of his chest, break it into a million little pieces, never to be mended again.

And when the signs start showing, Thor is hyperaware to let them go unnoticed.

 

* * *

 

Loki doesn’t really know why he is in here right now. It would have been better if he was attending to his little familiar, but Thor had asked him for his company and there is no way he will let him find out about Lady Snugglepuff just yet, seeing as he was sort of any good excuse. Also, he cannot understand why Thor wants his company when he is else preoccupied at the moment.

It’s a waste of time and Loki _would_ have been bored out of his mind, for there is nothing for him to occupy himself with than the book in his hands – which has proven to be truly unhelpful seeing as his focus keeps wandering elsewhere – if not for the eye-catching sight unveiling before him.

The room is otherwise empty, filled only with grunts of effort and low chuckles as Thor and Steve speak among themselves. Throwing punch after kick and evading with low squats and quick movements no one would have expected from men of their width and size.

They are both brutal in the force behind their attacks, knowing the other can withstand it. Still, there is something calming in the repetitive dance as they train.  

Thor grunts when one of Steve’s punches grazes his shoulder, taking two quick steps back to avoid the next one coming for his side. Sweat glistens on his face and torso, giving an otherworldly shine on his rippling muscles. He is clad only in a pair of soft sweatpants, hitched low on his pelvis’ jutting bones, showing as much tight skin as he can without creating a crude sight.

Loki swallows the lump formed in his throat when Thor catches his eyes and winks. Heat creeps up his neck and he ducks his head behind the book, which he is _certain_ is something interesting, but at the same time he wouldn’t be able to recall its theme or even title if his life depended on it!

However, he cannot resist for long; green eyes peeking behind the dark curls that manage to fall over his face, even with the little horned band secured on his hairline. Loki chances a secret look at Thor, warmth sweeping in his stomach. He is truly a sight to behold as sunrays fall on his chiseled body, giving depth on his working muscles. His mismatched eyes shine with glee and a fire Loki can remember ever since they were boys, short golden hair gleam with droplets of perspiration and his full lips pull in a smile through his beard.

 It’s simply, terribly _majestic_.

Thor, in all of his glory, restored and happy as he should be.

It’s all Loki has missed about his brother, right in front of him, and he feels a kind of newfound itch in his bones.

Loki wants to reach out and touch, run his thin, pale fingers over Thor’s glorious, tanned skin, feel the way his flesh works under the contact. He wants to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and inhale, until his lungs will be burned by Thor’s natural aroma, stained with it. He wants to sense those strong hands that, are currently formed into fists, holding him and to feel their rough texture against his soft skin, discovering, exploring, and setting shivers free to run over his body.  He wants– _he wants_ – _._ . .

_Loki doesn’t know what he wants._

Loki’s fingers are fidgeting with the piercing in his ear, turning the tiny marble of the barbell between them in a recently discovered habit. His breath feels slightly constricted in his lungs and he can hear the _thump, thump, thump,_ of his heart echoing in his ears. His vision is solely focused on Thor; his brother the only thing he can see with clarity, everything else smudging and fogging around his glorious existence.

And Loki cannot breathe. No, his neck is clogged and panic creeps to settle on his muscles, for _this isn’t_ _right!_ He shouldn’t be having thoughts like these for _his_ _brother!_ No, no, this cannot be happening!

But. . . shouldn’t he truly? For there is something right in the flutter of his stomach, something dear and missed.

The desire is there. Unquestionable. Filling his lungs and his heart and every vein in his body with scorching heat. Warring with shame and guilt and the annoying feeling of _wrongness_ he has felt for the last two years. The incompleteness. 

_No, I was supposed to escape from this illness this time around! It’s my hard-won second chance, I can’t make the same mistakes! I simply can’t!_

Loki shivers from the power behind this belief, his vision swims for a second. A green glow tinting the sides of his eyesight and it’s as if a barrier just got penetrated, only for it to suck the offender back in and adjust its shape to fill the crack that had been briefly opened.

(It’s a stray thought that sneaks into his mind, as if finding an escape route from the confines of his unconscious, only to be yanked back in lockup. It’s something that feels exceedingly _himself._ Better than any other thought he has had in the past four years. As if a part of him is missing and tries to find its way back without succeeding.)

Pain shoots through his brain.

 _“_ Loki? _”_ Thor’s voice is deep, etched with an edge of worry. It succeeds in drilling through the rushing in his ears, but only so. Loki’s eyes are terrified, pupils blown wide, nearly swallowing up the irises. Unfocused. Looking up at Thor – _his brother_ – but not truly seeing him. For all he sees is the red colour of shame. Of guilt and embarrassment. Yearning. “ _Loki!_ ” Thor says again, sharper than before, big hands holding Loki’s shoulders to shake him gently.

Worry and concern clear as day on his face, and Loki wants to wail. Cry and shout because Thor doesn’t deserve this – doesn’t deserve _him;_ a brother that could show him disloyalty in the highest of betrayals; even if Loki doesn’t truly perceive the meaning behind this sudden emotion.

“Loki, you’re scaring me.”

Loki’s mind is reeling, unable to find a way out, unable to think or even conjure up words. He has to go away. He needs out. _Now!_

All of a sudden there is a dagger materializing in his hand and he looks at it in shock, for he hasn’t summoned it and cannot remember the last time his seidr acted on its own.

Yet, it’s his way out.

“Loki, what-”

His hand juts forward, pressing the dagger in place, and Loki disappears with a sick kind of gratification fluttering in his heart at the little grunt falling from Thor’s full lips.

 

* * *

 

Loki spends the next half an hour huddled with Lady Snugglepuff in her modified closet after his revelation. His Jötunn form absorbs the cold from the snow on the ground, in a futile try to calm him down so Loki will be able to reassess the situation and think with clarity over what is going on with him. 

(Contrary to his friends’ beliefs the closet doors are posing as doors to an actual part of the Himalayas’ mountains. The only thing his seidr truly does is sustaining an easily accessible way to get to his dear familiar, nothing more. Not yet.)

Lady Snugglepuff is snuggled close to his chest, purring like a tiny tractor in her attempt to make him feel better. Unfortunately, not even she can calm the turmoil in his mind.

The thoughts regarding his brother are similar to his wishes for contact in the past years, akin to the craving for Thor to hold him and pay attention to him while he heals and learns to let go, to the warmth caressing his chilly body whenever Thor as much as smiled at him, brushed fingers through Loki’s unruly hair or kissed his forehead and cheeks. They are perfectly similar, but, at the same time, they are so much more, laced with a smoke of longing. Whispering against the border of decency and impropriety. As abrupt in their existence as someone might think.

But there is something achingly familiar about them Loki cannot get out of his mind.

Since he had been reborn he had felt amiss, as if in rented skin, keeping the place warm until the true owner returns to claim it. It feels almost as if a part of his soul has been slotted suddenly in place. However he still cannot say which.

There’s a vile taste in his mouth, something he cannot remember the name of, and as much as he tries to swallow it down it just won’t go away. It clenches his heart, nearly painfully. Lady Snugglepuff whines in his arms and tries to push still closer to Loki, wanting to provide him with comfort.

Blurry memories of moments when this strange emotion prevailed run through his mind. Recollections he cannot truly grasp, nor see clearly. There is but one common element that he can make out and it is his brother. _Thor._ Forever about Thor. It surprises and confuses him; it feels brand new and old as time, simultaneously dreaded and welcome.

 _Can I never truly change?_ He ponders and shuts his crimson eyes, terrified at the missing puzzle he has only now realized is gone. For, if there are parts of him veiled to his knowing, why is it so? Does it mean they will be returned to him or are to be forever forgotten, drowned in a well of confusion so deep as to never climb their way back to the surface? And what is he to expect upon their return? What is he to do? Will he still seek revenge for slights long past? Will he turn into the dark figure of his most well-obscured memories? Will he betray his friends and Thor if all the _bad and wrong_ slither back into his heart?

Loki wishes someone would be there with him, someone to guide him through these new feelings. Help him see.

Loki wishes for Mother. . .

His familiar huddles to his chest when a pained whine escapes his lips. Loki wishes for Mother, but she is not here anymore to hold his hand through the stressful and hard moments of his life, thus, Loki takes a deep breath and screws his eyes shut. He has to be brave, face the hurdles like he has been taught. As she would want him too.

With the still-diminished force of his seidr, he attempts to search for the truth inside him. Finding the barrier hidden until now in his mind, he pokes and prods, seeking for the slightest sign of weakness. Loki’s breath starts coming out short, fingers trembling, cold that isn’t due to the snow seeps through his skin into his bones, while he tries and experiments with ways around the tiny dome of obstruction he can now see clearly.

Alas, his attempts are futile. With every try to penetrate the unseen border his head aches with such force it feels as if Mjolnir tries to break down into his skull. Loki doesn’t give up. He casts magic spell after archaic incantation, until he shags on the snow, migraine rendering it hard to breathe, body trembling from the violation he has inflicted on himself.

Loki laughs in self-directed mirth. For still, with his power at its weakest and his memories locked up, he can recognize his own work with astute certainty, his personal touch clear as day.

This is all Loki.

Damn.

 

* * *

 

Thor’s bare feet thump softly on the hardwood floor of his and Loki’s suite, the doors click hurriedly behind him while he searches for his little brother, heart stuttering in his chest while at the same moment swells with a masochistic kind of glee. The twinge in his side smarts with every motion of his arm, drooling blood in a lethargic pace that dribbles down to his hip bone.

His hunt comes out fruitless when he finds their rooms barren of Loki and immaculate as ever, only the random book or tech lying around, out of place.

He returns in the elevator, crooking one arm on the steel wall of the box and touching his forehead on the forearm. The little triangle dagger is a similar one to the one he had gotten imbedded under his ribs when they were fighting on the top of the very same building all those years back. It gleams and catches the light of the elevator as he flicks it between his fingers. A small smile plays on his lips, but a sigh escapes when Loki’s startled greens come forward into his mind.

Thor has no clue what might have made his brother panic and act as he did, but he would be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy the rush of adrenaline surging through; a different kind from the one of battle, one that Loki had always been the only one capable in infusing him with.

It’s rejuvenating. Familiar in the grasp it has on his heart and stomach, the tingling rushing down his arms and spine, the drive to find Loki and seek answers, shake him by the shoulders.

Thor chuckles, part anxious, part excited. It is the most Loki-behaviour his brother has brandished in the past years and Thor just. . . Thor wants to grab Loki in his arms and laugh gleefully because this _is_ his brother. His darling brother with the sharp tongue and the nearly instinctual need to burry daggers into Thor.

He is almost certain there is something wrong with his head, perhaps he has taken one too many hits in his years of fighting, because taking pleasure in getting stabbed surely isn’t something any sane person should be. But there had always been something dysfunctional with him; starting and rotating over his overdeveloped feelings for his own little brother.

Thor isn’t as surprised as he probably should be.

(He has made peace with this mutated fondness a long time ago. Thor had to or else he would have had driven himself into madness, trying to find reason and failing, change his emotions back to what they should have been. There had never been the slightest possibility of it and, no matter the first handful of attempts, Thor had given up soon enough, allowing his heart to clench with need whenever his eyes fell on his brother, fingers to prickle and savour the lasting feel of Loki’s skin lingering onto them even hours after their last touch of Loki’s neck or hand. It was his way of making peace with what was so blindingly true.)

Thor sighs again, rubbing his bad eye that itches as if in response to the storm of his thoughts and hides the dagger in his training pants’ pocket before exiting the opening doors and rushing down the steps of the penthouse’s living room.

“Have you seen Loki?” he asks Natasha, holding her shoulders after almost crashing onto her.

Thor looks nearly frantically at her as she takes him in with keen observing eyes, taking note of the apparent worry in his eyes and his strange lack of attire: Thor’s ruffled, barefooted and clearly having cut his work-out short if his half-naked body is indication enough.

(It’s rare walking around half-naked outside the training room and it’s a fact that Natasha has noticed for sure, because, as much as Thor might be proud of his body and relaxed in his skin, the rules of the royal court about dressing codes are very hard to shake off after years of obeying them. He can’t suddenly start doing everything he has learned not to do until now.)

 “No, why?” Natasha asks, perplexed and a little miffed; Loki doesn’t do anything that might worry Thor these days and Thor feels slightly bad at taking pleasure in his brother’s unease.

 “I don’t know! One moment he was fine and then he was lost inside his own mind, panicking, quick to vanish from my sight!” Thor’s voice is even deeper than usually, words tumbling out in a rush. He has to find him and if there is one person who could help him then it is her.

“Why would- hey, you’re bleeding!” She nearly exclaims, raising a hand to lift Thor’s from the way.

“’Tis but a scratch.” Thor says flippantly.

“Thor! You need to at least cleanse it. Who did this?”

Thor grits his teeth, “Loki,” he says, diligently letting her examine the superficial wound so he can be on his way the soonest.

“He stabbed you?” Natasha requires and, surprised at the strange behaviour, she frowns at him.

Thor huffs, frown deepening on his face. “It’s what Loki does!” his voice raises a little, without wanting to, hands slicing through the air in exasperation. “He panics? He stabs me! He feels uncomfortable? He stabs me! He’s bored? He stabs me! It’s his easy way of getting an out _and_ getting me on his heels if he is in need of a little excitement.” Although his panic, his ramble is tainted with the kind of weird glee poking at his heart, eyes sparkling in nearly childish joy. “ _Have you seen him?_ ” he stresses, a hand tightening imperceptibly on her arm.

“No, Thor, I haven’t.” Natasha huffs, looking at him shag. “But, I may know where he might be. You just go sit, calm down.”

Natasha might be one of his dear friends, a worthy sister-in-arms, however, Thor isn’t fond of her mysteriousness when it comes to his brother. “Where?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“That,” Natasha smiles cheekily and he gets the strange desire to strangle her, “is a secret.” She then walks away, unheeding of Thor’s calls for her, only commanding over her shoulder: “And for fuck’s sake take care of the cut!”

Thor wants to chase after her, demand an explanation, learn what secrets Loki may be keeping from him, for he knows something _is_ being kept from him, something that occupies much of Loki’s time as of late, make him lie that he is only spending time with their friends. But Thor knows him; he can see the truth in the habitual wringing of his hands, the way his eyes hold Thor’s as if to prove his all-but-faked honesty and how he vanishes for hours from their bed sometimes when another nightmare causes him to wake up trembling.

Thor knows all that, and would like some explanations even if it meant shaking them out from his brother’s tall form.

He cannot do that, though. Thor cannot let himself return to his olden ways, when he thought Loki should tell him everything, _owed_ to tell him everything when Thor himself had been keeping his own secrets close to his chest, nevertheless expecting Loki’s unquestioned loyalty and friendship without doing anything remotely worthy of them.

(Thor’s better than that man now. He has learned the lesson Loki had tried teaching him time and time again, in the cruelest of ways still: nobody owes him anything. Certainly not Loki.)

So, Thor clenches his teeth and clasps his fists.

If Loki needs some distance, then Thor will make way for him.

 

* * *

 

Natasha knocks on one of her closet’s doors, opening the glamoured wood and entering when she doesn’t get an answer.

“Loki?” she asks tenderly as she walks with soft steps to where Loki’s blue form is curled on the ground.

(She thinks for yet another time how thankful she is at Loki for magicking the entryway with a kind of unseen border that laid protection over her form so she could withstand the cold. Because Loki is thoughtful like that, doing small things for each one of them, easing their lives just this little bit, believing his heartwarming actions go unnoticed to everyone, for this is how he had learned it to be in his previous life. Every nice deed of his getting ignored, never to be acknowledged, only known for his vengeful pranks and sharp tongue. The Avengers _did_ notice though and were very appreciative, unwilling to let Loki sink the same way as before.)

When she reaches near him she can see he is trembling, face hidden in his hands, tiny wet sniffs coming from shaking dark blue lips.

“Oh, darling!” she exclaims in surprise, running the last few feet to kneel beside him and his pet. “What’s wrong sweetie?” she asks, using an amount of petnames she wouldn’t usually, but seeing him like this, helpless and miserable in his beautiful blue skin, causes something hurt and constrict inside her.

Loki shakes his head and groans in pain, allowing his hands to be removed from his face but still keeping his eyes closed. “My head.” He whines, hiding his face against Natasha’s clothed tummy when she draws him half onto her lap.

Lady Snugglepuff keeps glued on Loki’s side, watching with what Natasha would have described her saddest expression as Natasha brushes her fingers through ebony tresses.

“Hurts, Nat.” Loki complains, clenching his teeth. “Hurts so much.” He sobs, fingers tightening on her blouse.

Natasha has the gut feeling he isn’t referring to his head, yet she doesn’t ask for more. She has come to know him quite well in the past years and Natasha knows that if there is one thing she can’t make this Loki do, is trick him into speaking his mind, for Loki only confides in her when he wants to.

“It’s okay, Loki. Everything will be alright.” She shushes, carding through his short hair.

Loki only cries harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Loki... well, *shrugs* what can we do?
> 
> What _I_ can do, though, while unable to make our little Loki feel better, is to keep my promise to all of you! So, to celebrate this story reaching 500 kudos and to thank you all I am opening up for story prompts about Brighter Days~ if there are moments you want to see with little Loki, Thor with or without Loki or their long past then send me a message here or in [tumblr](http://theangrykimchi.tumblr.com/ask) and I will sum it up in a nice oneshot or add it in future chapters!
> 
> Thank you all so so SO much for the love and suppport!
> 
> Title from my great love _Led Zeppelin's_ [Dazed and Confused](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rmtJ6-EY1E)
> 
> P.S. disclaimer for the reference to Loki spelling doors to announce Thor's entrance with _Thunder_ goes to the twitter or tumblr user who actually thought about it (if you know them, tell me so I will credit them).


	9. On The Middle Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor had always loved and been in love with every version of Loki.

“Why so blue, my friend?”

Steve asks one late night, finding Thor slumped in the leather couch, alone and in total darkness, while venturing in the penthouse’s kitchen in search for a snack. The only light is that of the city coming in through the windows, playing along the shadows of the room and over their faces, making it hard to gauge his friend’s expression.

Thor chuckles humorlessly and raises a glass to his lips, tilting his head to the side. “I believe you’ve got the wrong brother, Captain.”

Steve does not like his tone of voice; it’s low and pained, nearly akin to how it had been after Thanos in the rare occasions Steve would catch him standing out in the patio with the rain falling onto his defeated and slouched form. Weeping skies of a lamenting God.

Taken aback by the sight, Steve flinches as if slapped. This isn’t something he has seen since Loki came back and he would be happy living the rest of his life without seeing ever again.

At least, thunder isn’t echoing in the sky as a wounded wolf would, there is no drizzling rain with any real momentum or strength behind it, unstoppable in its mission to drench anything and anyone it touches, as if to infect with the anguish of a remorseful hero.

“Thor,” Steve starts in worry, the tug of it in his belly lacing his voice after noticing the empty bottle sitting on the short glass coffee table in front of his friend, “is everything alright?” A silly question, Steve knows, but then, an anxious thought spins into his mind and the words are quick to fall from his lips. “Is Loki alright?”

“Loki’s perfectly fine. Sleeping.”

“Then. . . Are _you_ alright?”

Thor lets out that same melancholic sound, a poor substitute for his usual loud laughs.

“Depends.”

Steve takes a seat on the armchair opposite Thor, watching him as he watches the amber liquid in his glass, face crestfallen, eyes lowered and shining in the dim light falling on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

Thor sighs long and drawn-out through his nose, closing his eyes as he remembers. He’s leaning back in the couch, his sturdy shoulders hike up and fall down in a helpless shrug. A breath, two and then his lips thin on a line, the muscle on his jaw flutters. The fingers holding the glass twitch. When he speaks it’s on a mumble, a low whisper that barely manages to fall from his lips.

“It’s been seven years since I saw them last.” He knows that he is being enigmatic, but he needs to put his thoughts in line, contrary to the mess they have been for the entirety of the day. Steve, bless his soul, waits patiently, understanding Thor best; a companion sharing much of Thor’s personality, through an abundance of things that someone might think them kin if unwise of their realities.  “Since Asgard fell, since the annihilation of our ship,” Thor keeps his eyes down, still ashamed for leading his people into their death, for falling so easily under the Mad Titan’s hands.

 _For not returning home sooner._ Preferring instead to chase after a pointless dream, a means to forget and run away from duty and responsibility, scared of the loneliness of the gilded cage the palace would have been; stifling and lifeless without Mother and Loki’s presence.

“Since Loki and the last of our nation were murdered. Slaughtered as if they were of no import.”

Steve grimaces in sympathy, leaning forward to squeeze Thor’s knee. “I am terribly sorry for your home and people, your loss is much greater than I think anyone could ever bear,” his tone is sincere when he speaks words he hadn’t dared utter back then, hand still on Thor’s knee for support, “I know it is hard to believe sometimes, but not all is lost; you have Loki, returned to your side because, apparently, your trickster of a brother loved you as much as you did him. Who could have thought?” Steve jokes awkwardly, smiling at the little scoff coming from his friend.

“Certainly not me.” Thor smiles sadly, “I thought this time he would be gone for real. But I thought the same back then, too, and then he was there to prove me wrong and laugh at my face.” _Showing how little he cared if I hurt,_ Thor thinks, remembering Loki’s retorts and sarcasm each time Thor bared his heart to him, letting it bleed on his feet; how quick he had been in snuffing out the spark of hope Thor unwillingly let ignite in his breast, slowly replacing it with the frost residing around Loki’s own heart. 

“Your brother _is_ alive, Thor and he has been with us for the past five years.”

Thor huffs what can only be called a sad, wet sound, full of misery; he exceeds despondency. “Has he, really?”

Narrow eyes search Thor’s, carefully reading his expression, the mix of longing and misery, gladness and gratitude – he glances again at the bottle on the table and searches for others, something that would indicate Thor is drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying. But there are no bottles scattered in his close vicinity and Thor would not get drunk by only one bottle of _Jack_. He wouldn’t even be tipsy at the end of the second one.

(Some people couldn’t even _get_ drunk to begin with and then there were people like Thor who could drink an entire liquor store and maybe feel a little tipsy! Unfairness! Total and absolute unfairness!)

“And who is the kid we found in the woods?” Steve will admit to being a tiny bit alarmed, for he might be the only one not right _there_ yet when it comes to trusting Loki. Had they grown close to an imposter? Allowed him to live in their home, walk between them while deceiving them and tricking them in believing his lies, making them love him as a friend, a little sibling or cousin even? Who could it be if not Loki? A mutant, perhaps, someone skilled enough to even trick Thor into believing this façade – if Thor had been tricked at all and not simply tried to ignore the truth, desperate to believe his brother had come back from the dead. “It can’t be that we’ve all been led on. . .”

Thor sees Steve’s face swimming in a storm of indistinct emotions; disbelief, fear, anger, sadness. Thor is unable to hold back from rolling his eyes, hitting his knee hard against Steve’s to get his attention. “Oh, don’t worry. It _was_ him in the woods and it _is_ him sleeping in our bed.”

(The way Thor says _our bed_ holds something more, something pleased, hidden and tucked away from any other’s comprehension. Safe from the world’s judging view. It almost brings a smile on his lips, one that he is quick to quash, put back into place, somewhere it won’t betray him.)

“I have to be truthful, I don’t understand.” Steve mutters, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Is he Loki or not?”

Thor lets his head fall back on the couch, hand holding the glass forgotten on his thigh. “He is Loki, but at the same time he isn’t. _Everything good, nothing bad_. “ Thor quotes, closing his eyes as if in pain. “Not Loki-of-old. Not the brother I grew up with, not really.”

Steve thinks he might get it. For Steve knows. He is intimately aware of how it is to think someone dead, to watch them fall into their deaths. How it is to make it through life knowing you will never see them again. The sound of their voice now a part of the past. Their comforting touch when you had none, a painful memory in the nights when sleep won’t grant you its peaceful numbness, leaving you all alone, cold and pursued by your demons.

Steve also knows how it feels to have them miraculously returned to you, how wonderful it is knowing your best friend, _your brother_ , is alive, with a beating heart in their chest. Elating, fulfilling in its wholeness, but also so difficult to grasp, to let go of the pain that had nailed your heart and tightened your throat for so long; to drown the fear of knowing no one is undefeated. Immortality, a lie believed by children who aren’t faced with the ruthlessness of life, yet.

He understands how it is to find a shell of a man, a different person from the one he had been. The difficulties faced in the road of healing. What he doesn’t get is why Thor seems so disconsolate about the fact.

“Isn't that– “, he hesitates, because Thor has always had a quick fuse regarding everything that had to do with Loki, they could never be sure how the older God would react whenever they brought him up in the past, “a good thing?"

"Not necessarily." Thor murmurs. He doesn’t expect Steve to understand; he doesn’t think anyone will ever truly get just how much of Loki has vanished or the power with which Thor misses him, the longing to gaze upon the devilish little smile Loki-of-old had always brandished. He does love him still, for even in this new version of him Thor will never be able to quench his astute fondness for Loki or change the nature of his long-mutated affections.

(Thor had always loved and been in love with every version of Loki; brother or sister, Jötunn or Asgardian, good or bad. It mattered not to him. Loki was never one thing, why should Thor love only one form? He was changeable like the seasons, flowing like time, a great opposite to Thor’s unmovable attitude and persistent ways, drifting through life and magic as if he belonged there, belonged everywhere.)

Steve’s jaw works, eyes averting and coming back to look at Thor; a little dumbfounded, a little insulted in Loki’s behalf. "Are you saying you aren't happy he's alive if he’s not the madman he had been?" it comes out roughly as a hiss.

Thor is glad to see Steve’s protectiveness over his beloved brother, but at the present moment he could do without.

"On the contrary; I am elated.” Thor straightens his head and downs his drink. “But it does not change the fact that Loki is different from the brother I have known. Thus, a part of me will always be grieving."

"For the homicidal wanna-be monarch." Steve stresses, wanting to be sure he has all the facts right.

Thor’s smirk is full of contempt; at himself, at the way he treated his brother, at losing precious time in fighting him and then avoiding him when he should have sought him out like a brother should, like a friend, at leaving him alone and scheming for years on end because he had been lonely and seething, bitter; and Thor was too full of himself to notice how Loki hurt. For making him feel less when in truth Loki had always been _more_. Better, worthier than Thor had ever been.

"For the brother I've known for more than a thousand years.”

Thor gets up, walking with heavy steps to the windows. He gazes out to the city that never sleeps, but his vision blurs, unfocused millions of lights expanding to fill his sight with their colourful radiation, eerily similar to the view from the _Statesman_ ; billions of lights as far as the eye could see. Until it was the _only_ thing you could see.

 _(“Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring_ me _back to earth?”_

_“Probably not, to be honest. Don’t worry, brother, I feel like everything’s gonna work out fine.”_

If he had only known better. If he had that little bit more of time.)

“Don't get me wrong, but you have only known him for a mere expanse of time. Loki had always been everything he is now, but so much more at the same time.” Thor has an arm propped on the glass, forehead resting on the forearm as he gazes out into the city. His artificial eye itches and it’s so hard to ignore, like the tiny empty spot in his heart that, no matter what, cannot be filled. “What you see – what you think you know is only the base of who Loki had been and who he had grown to be before his actions of war."

Steve rubs a hand down his face. “I understand.” Isn’t that what he himself had done when he had found Bucky? Steve hadn’t abandoned him, hadn’t stopped believing his friend _was_ still in there somewhere.  “Or I can try to.”

Loki’s reasons and conditions might have been dissimilar to those of Bucky, but when one stripped it down to it they had both been led to villainy through desperation and intolerable suffering in the hands of something greater than them, unwillingly tangled in the biggest seam of things. When Steve had found him, out of his mind and amnesiac, he had done everything he could to retrieve him, get him back into his life and true self, had advocated for him and even fought his comrades for Bucky’s sake. Why should he still hold onto misplaced beliefs about Loki? It would be deceitful, dishonest of him.

“What was he like?” Steve asks, wanting to show Thor that he cares, that he is here, not judging of him. He can see Thor’s smile in his reflection on the glass, it stretches wide, filled with affection, overshadowing the pained twinge.

“Truly? The most fascinating creature I’ve ever met.”

 

* * *

 

When it’s time for Steve to Loki-sit it’s near to a year after Peter’s disastrous turn.

(Peter is to never set foot on a mile radius distance from Loki – not that either of them has conformed to the ban.)

The Avengers are called on a mission in South America and Steve cannot join them because he has, much to his and everybody else’s surprise, broken his leg a week prior. He is a little peeved at letting his team on their own and at staying behind in the safety of the Tower, but he is also glad for the opportunity to spend a whole day in Loki’s company without Thor’s imposing presence or the others hovering around the young mage.

Steve has noticed how Tony, Bruce and Natasha seem to have grown close with Loki, spending as much time together as they can. He has come upon Tony, Bruce and Loki in several instances, laughing and talking in a language all their own as they explain the workings of their science to each other or upon Loki and Natasha sitting cross legged on the floor, cleaning their favoured daggers or exercising in yoga and several contortionistic shit that are simultaneously creepy and awe-inducing. Go figure.

(In most of these instances Thor is hanging somewhere to the side, doing his own thing while they do theirs, but he is a permanent presence all-together at their peripheral – at least, Thor does not take on yoga along with them. It would be a sight to behold to see trying to bend his bulk in all those strange shapes.)

And Steve wants to have some alone time with their smarty mascot, to have their _own thing_ and inside jokes, like he does with the rest of the initial Avengers. He has been trying for so long. Bucky knows it and Sam has noticed, while Tony keeps teasing him and Natasha and Bruce try to involve him some times, but Steve isn’t preferably fond of knives and he is pretty sure spines aren’t meant to bend that way and he also knows jack shit of the elaborate science things the _Intellectual Trio_ fawns over.

Steve is only asking for the chance to spend some time with Loki and take a peek at how the little one truly is.

(He also wants to find out if his suspicions are correct and if he should partake in the ongoing bet that’s going on in hush-hush tones under the brothers’ very noses.)

So, when the _Evil Mastermind of the Week_ _TM_   (trademarked by one Tony “Stupid Nicknames” Stark, of course) shoots him on the sheen with an advanced Frisbee of all things (and if _that_ wasn’t awful enough) they find that _hey, the Captain isn’t indestructible if you mix x with y and then add a little bit of a, f and e chemicals!_ And, also, that _he_ is going to stay at home during the next mission and that’s a matter decided. No objections accepted.

It could have been worse. Like, he could have been asked to spend the recuperation time in a medical yard ran by SHIELD, under surveillance and while having tests done to him by scientists that try to find out _how did a Frisbee **get** Captain America out of commission _ and _if a Frisbee **can** get Captain America out of comission, what would happen if it was a Hula Hoop?_

Steve really doesn’t want to find out.

If there is one thing Steve hasn’t missed from his sickly past it’s the recuperation of broken bones and doctors running tests on him. _Sigh_

Also, thankfully – kind of – they accidentally killed the evil vigilante and destroyed his research and any back up of it when Thor’s sparks went a little iffy and one weak-hearted machine couldn’t take it, bursting out in an explosion that the Avengers escaped only thanks to, ironically, Thor’s new teleporting abilities.

If Thor isn’t the man to get you in and out of trouble all on his own!

So, the chance of anyone mixing the wrong ingredients again and going after Steve is quite slim – _this_ , this is what they are all thankful for. But, hey, Steve is a positive person and the good thing in all this bad is that he gets to have his desired down time with their newest member.

Steve is a tactical man, he likes getting to know the people consisting his team, being aware of their strong points and their fears, of what they are capable to do and, while he knows what he would highlight as _“enough”_ for Loki’s past, he is pretty certain there is more in the little mage than what meets the eye; his act of resurrecting himself, a neon sign of just how much they do not know or think him capable of. Seriously, how did they even win against him in the past?

Loki’s sudden appearance took them all by surprise in a time they were still finding their ground and, though for once, this sudden turn of events looks like it’s going well for everyone and especially Thor, Steve hates surprises with a vengeance.

In his life surprises seldom meant anything other than pain and death.

Steve remembers the moment the bright light formed into a kid-sized Loki as if it happened yesterday. His every instinct had been on alert, shield ready to take the head of the next alien predator he would come across. _Protect or lose your life trying._

He hadn’t been like this, not before fighting against his own damn friends and certainly not before facing two alien armies. He was a religious man, believing everyone had a right to atone, but where does atonement even fit when you slaughter more than half of the world and subjugate the rest, all in the name of greater good?

Who is he to demand from sullied-souled beings to make amends for all the misery and grief they had spread, the terror and the tears left on their path?

So no, he wasn’t willing to endanger the lives of his friends for the contrivances of some asshole who made the mistake of thinking Earth as easily conquered. Again.

Their bafflement and suspiciousness when a fairly familiar kid had emerged was hardly held back. Loki, similar to his previous visit on earth, had little regard for the Avengers pointing weapons at him, attention solely focused on his brother.

Watching Loki as a holographic conjuration in what seemed like mere moments before his death was a punch in the gut for Steve, his mind helpfully flashing the memory of Bucky stuttering his name and stumbling towards him before turning to dust. He is possibly the only person able to understand or imagine what it felt like for Thor. Having his brother thrice taken and thrice returned when all hope had been lost. No wonder the big guy had almost gone feral right when his beloved brother’s image had faded, followed up by memories of his grotesque death in the hands of Thanos.

(It was on a night much like the one a few days ago that Thor had confided in him, shadowed  into the dark and with face drawn from pain, with rain hitting against the windows in mind-numbing affliction. Making great attempts at holding back his tears, smiling instead on how Loki had proved him to be less once again, for this was the second time his brother died for someone else. The utmost act of sacrifice. For Thor. It was rough seeing an all-powerful being such as Thor reduced to that state of loneliness and anguish. Powerless when he was far from it.)

Steve remembers how Thor had calmed down under Loki’s caring touch, succumbing himself in a long-awaited and needed sleep, and how Loki’s little nose had scrunched in concentration afterwards, mouth pinching into a pout for a moment before Thor’s body started slowly levitating in the air. Small smile curling the boy’s lips, hand never letting go of Thor’s as he started leading the way to the Quinjet with Thor floating beside him, letting the Avengers gape after him, before scrambling to their feet and following.

They had been suspicious for a long while after that - especially while Thor slept without waking up. And some of them still are a little, even if they mostly have started relaxing, hoping with the whole of their hearts this trust they’ve showed the young mage won’t prove to be a fatal mistake.

 

* * *

 

When Loki wakes up Thor is nowhere to be found. It has become short of a routine as of late. One where Thor vanishes from their bed long before Loki has woken, sometimes returning freshly showered after a training session to awaken Loki with gentle fingers through his dark hair, but most times waiting for the teenager to rise on his own. And thankfully, for Loki finds himself in awkward predicaments most mornings than not, lately.

Loki flips on his back and groans in frustration, pressing both palms against his face. Trying and failing to remember the dream that is to be held responsible this time around.

Flashes of long, brown-blond hair and the sound of a booming heartfelt laugh cling to the back of his mind, low grunts of effort and glistening with sweat flexing muscles.  But there is nothing tangible coming to the forefront. Not a single, completed image.

Loki huffs, running his long fingers through his hair. Plays with his earring in contemplation. Of course he knows who he has dreamt off, for _he_ is the only person managing to ignite such heat in the pit of Loki’s stomach. Shame and remorse twinge in his heart, but the way the sheets drag on him sough shivers on his body, making it difficult for him to try to ignore the matter at hand.

“Damn,” he murmurs.

Loki tries to turn on his side, remove any source of friction from his clothed bottom half, but to no avail. The images in his head are persistent, sorting themselves into the growing set of such abstract memories of dreams, making it even harder for him.

He attempts to disregard his body’s demands, thinks of taking a shower, however, the water, hot or cold, has already proven to make matters worse. So, Loki shuts his eyes and throws out his mind’s eye, searching for Thor’s undeniable aura, finding him three floors down, still in the training room even if the hour is well past his training bouts, with aura a red pulsing cloud clothing him. Loki’s breath escapes through his teeth in a hiss from the power of Thor’s desire.

He has wondered a few times how Thor deals with what is as natural as breathing to any creature. How he has managed to control himself and not seek out company. _Why_ Thor doesn’t seek out another’s company to warm his bed and sate his needs? _Why_ does he spend most of his time with Loki, seemingly content to just be in his company, instead of prowling in bars trying to pick up people as he had always done?

Thor has grown more domesticated than Loki thinks could ever be possible; preferring to simply stay in, sprawl on the couch and watch a movie with the rest, or curl in bed with Loki and _read!_ A far cry from the warmongering son of a militarist father. So much softer around the edges than Loki remembers him ever being.

Loki groans, feeling himself twitch in his pajamas, demanding attention. Attention that Loki reluctantly gives, still bewildered by these new thoughts, by the way his mind has started measuring everything, going over every little thing. Noticing every tiny thing about Thor. Second-guessing and holding his motions because of this sickness taking over him.

It’s been two months since that damned eureka moment in the training room, months where he started giving his attentions on things about his brother that he shouldn’t have ever noticed the way he does now. That he shouldn’t have _liked_ the way he does.

The senses ignited when Thor’s arms hold him – especially during the night – close to his chest, as if they could wrap around his entire being and keep him safe – or the way Thor’s fingers manage to raise light, trembling shivers down his spine when they read, Loki leaning under Thor’s wing, onto his warm breast. The way they card through his hair and dance over the exposed nape of his neck, scratch in the tiny shaved hair at the sides of his head, drag over the shell of his ear.

Oh, the way those fingers fiddle with his barbell, tugging gently at it and turning it between their calloused pads.

Loki gasps, teeth snatching his bottom lip to gnaw on when he thinks of the light, smacking kisses Thor rains Loki’s face with, affectionate and childish or the long presses of lips on his skin, full of emotion left on Loki’s cheeks, his forehead or his curving horns when he is in his Jötunn form. Thor’s kisses make his heart patter inside his ribcage, make him wish he could find the brevity to turn his head this way to the side and catch his lips with his own. But Loki’s not brave enough for something of this caliber.

Never thinks he will be.

Loki whimpers on a harsh tug, the fingers of his other hand curl in the bedding.

And then, then there are Thor’s eyes; that intense gaze looking at Loki as if he is able to reach into his mind and read his very soul. As if Loki is the centre of his world, the most important thing, the most precious person.

Loki takes a gasping breath, hand picking up pace, slippery in the mess of his pre-spend to pull frantically on his erection, bare chest and face feeling hot with desire.

Thor’s name a breath away from escaping his lips.

There are moments Loki thinks he can see the blue of Thor’s good eye burn with lust, rolling down Loki’s growing body, pausing over places Loki thinks Thor would like to kiss and put marks on. And Loki _aches_.

In a corner of the room something explodes as he comes with a low stutter and shags in the mattress, feeling tingles and slight tremors rolling down his body, until they reach his very toes.

(He knows without opening his eyes that it was one of Thor’s Viking mementos, a souvenir from one of their trips to Norway.)

It’s an expected result lately. Each time he attends to himself there will be small bursts of magic that he has to fix later. Loki doesn’t really think much of it. It’s only a release of tension, some small way for his magic to defuse so it won’t hurt him instead.

Loki groans and swipes a hand over the mess on his belly, cleaning it up with a single thought.

Guilt is eating away in his mind. For even if Loki has noticed all this, there is no possibility of it being the nature he wants it to be. No way of Thor – righteous, perfect Thor – sharing the deprived nature of Loki’s affections even as abrupt as they are; one day Loki was wrapping himself around Thor with little to no care and the next he _had_ to notice the way Thor smiles.

Loki doesn’t know what to make of it. He cannot chase away the fact that he is missing something crucial, held away as it is from his old self. He doesn’t know if he will ever be able to retrieve it, find the missing piece of the incomplete puzzle that he is.

Still, he yearns for its return all the same.

 

* * *

 

“And do not, by any chance, let him summon sweets and eat it all by himself. Thor might find it funny and cute, but his magic goes haywire and shit happens.” Tony warns, having sided Steve in his personal bathroom the morning they are to head out. Steve is trying to take a shower without getting his braced leg wet and Tony is being of no help the way he looks intently in Steve’s eyes, ignoring how he is standing under the spraying water, naked.

“Tony,” Steve starts, barely holding back a groan, “you’ve been giving me tips for the last two days and I fairly doubt I will need half, if any, of them.”

“No, no, you don’t understand, Steve. The kid is a total hazard when given too much sugar!” Tony stresses, gesturing with his hands in the air, exasperated.

“And how do you know it? I’ve never seen anything like what you’ve described, only bits of unchecked spells while summoning something. Which both Loki and Thor assured us is something entirely normal.”

Steve turns suspicious, Tony appears to be too sure of his sayings and that is never a good sign.

Tony shrugs, his expression turning flippant, “I might have ran some tests. . .”

“Of course you have.” He should have seen it coming. No amount of time spend of Tony and Loki hanging out would give fortunate results to the rest of them.

“Also, the incident a year ago –remember? The one with the vengeful trees and zombie-like machines that had many environmental organizations and insurance companies on our asses _for months_? It _was_ caused due to large consumptions of sugar. Which Loki had.”

Steve shuts his eyes and sniffs out a big sigh. Of course their strongest and most unconventional maybe-ally would be put out by a little bit of sugar. Really, it’s simply their luck.

“If I remember correctly, _those two_ had been having _fun_ even before it all went awry. So, no. I will not blame sugar for their utter idiocy. I didn’t expect Peter to think of the repercussions, but Loki should have known better! Also, if you haven’t noticed, I am in the shower. Trying to wash myself.” He pauses, imploring his gaze into Tony’s large, fawn-like eyes. When Tony seems to not get the hint, Steve bites out: “ _Naked!_ ”

Tony snorts, checking him up and down. “So? What’s your point?”

“Can you please,” Tony’s eyebrow rises, lewd smirk slipping readily on his face “ _Get_. _Out_.”

His friend takes a second too long for himself, taking one last roll of his eyes down Steve’s body before clicking his tongue and closing the curtain on Steve’s face, “Buzzkill,” comes his mutter.

Steve’s eyes flutter in slight annoyance and tension, only for a second, and then shouts over the spray of the water., “Let go of my toiletries, Stark.”

His lips form a lop-sided smile when he hears a surprised thud and then murmurs of how Tony wasn’t being nosey, or something like that, and then, when the door finally opens for him to exit, Steve adds: “And try to refrain from turning the brother of our strongest team member into a test monkey, please.”

“You, sir, are a Party Pooper! A miserable, fun policeman!”

Steve is left blessedly alone to shower after that, wishing that Tony’s most alarming experiment will be creating some Stark technology armour for Loki and nothing else remotely dangerous.

Somehow, hope isn’t the only thing he has left regarding his troublemaker of a friend.

 

* * *

 

When the Avengers, sans Steve, get ready and leave in the Quinjet, he is left holding himself up on his crutch, watching as the plane flies away with an unsettling twirl in his gut, for this is the first time they go on a mission without him.

It’s also the first time Thor has to leave Loki behind after the little disappearing stand the young mage had pulled two months ago in the training room and Thor looks more reluctant to leave his side than any other time, if this is even possible.

He seems to levitate at Loki’s side nowadays, nearly as much as he did in the first few days when Loki was newly returned and Thor needed to make sure he was here and alive. Steve has caught him many times looking at Loki’s pale neck, as if, if he stares hard enough, then the bruises from the Gauntlet will reappear out of nowhere, his eyes filled with a mix of anger, guilt and sadness.

Steve believes it is the Doombots’ fault; having come so close to Loki when he had been at his weakest must have shaken Thor’s newly built foundations and strengthened his aversion in having Loki far from his immediate grasp.

Another reason Steve is lucky to be the one staying back, is that he didn’t have to be present when they were trying to persuade Thor everything _would_ be alright this time.

(What Steve doesn’t know is that Thor had been quite easy in giving ascent exactly _because_ Steve would be the one looking after Loki. The God-King believes Steve is the hardest to bend at will. Ha!)

Now, Thor is still standing a few ways to the side, hugging Loki in what looks like the hold a bear would brace upon an innocent victim – Steve can faintly hear Loki’s complains as he tries to push his brother away and give himself just a tiny bit of space to breathe. It certainly looks suffocating to be squashed between Thor’s arms.

Loki huffs and puffs, his noodle arms no match for Thor’s persistent muscles. Steve is smiling at the pinched expression Thor brandishes, how he shushes Loki as he would a slightly agitated cat. And then, as sudden as a bolt of lightning, Thor jumps back, barely a step away from his little brother.

“ _Loki!_ ” Thor exclaims in his baritone, letting go of the little God to clutch at his side where the hilt of a throwing knife glints in the afternoon sun.

“I warned you to let me breathe, you oaf!” Loki huffs, crossing his foal-like arms over his chest, tapping his foot irritably on the floor. “Do stop turning into a sentimental fool each time.”

Thor, honest to God, _pouts_ , and drags the knife out, throwing it on the floor with a sigh. “You didn’t have to stab me.”

“You didn’t have to crush me.” Counters Loki and turns to head inside, seemingly done with his emotional brother. But, before walking through the glass doors, he turns and throws a meaningful look at Thor, sinister smirk marring his young face, “this is how I show my love, fool.” It is said with so much affection, Steve feels a little awkward watching.

Thor furrows his eyebrows, readying Stormbreaker to fly when he shouts back over the swishing sound of his axe, “I’d prefer hugs and kisses!” which gets a flippant hand gesture for an answer. Thor rolls his eyes and takes off after sending a nod – and what someone might regard as a warning look – at Steve.

Really, after the thing with Peter, Steve isn’t surprised by Thor’s reluctance to leave Loki with anyone. Kid seems to have wrapped everyone around his nimble fingers, dragging them along into mischief and not getting even half of the blame for any havoc they might cause in the name of entertainment.

(Even calm, introverted Bruce had been willingly led into trouble by Loki one memorable day when the mage had persuaded him to mix two extremely flammable chemicals just to see what would happen. _What could have ever happened?! Explosions equal to that of Pearl Harbor, this is what!_ The military had tried taking them for interrogation, alarmed by the huge purple-yellow mushroom head of smoke that had appeared in the middle of Nevada’s desert in the aftershock of their little experiment. Loki of course had tried to sweet-talk their way out while Bruce stuttered and tried to hold back the Hulk. Until Thor had Bifrosted his way next to the tight circle of soldiers, startling them all.)

But Steve is certain and determined to not be led astray. He’s only got to stay focused on keeping out of trouble, not let Loki drag him into deviltry and have fun. But how are they going to do this? What is there for the two of them to do?

From what Steve has gathered there is no common ground between them; not like there is between Loki and most of the rest.

Steve is not particularly understanding of science the way the three are, nor is he fond of pranks no matter how well-natured they could be – the hundreds of times he has had them inflicted on him when he was young and sickly in a world of virile strong men created a deep sense of disgust for them. And there is no way he will do any of the shit he has seen Loki and Natasha do while training. No sir, good old hand-to-hand is the only style he will agree with, none of that twirling and hanging upside down from ceiling things they do together. He doesn’t even need to think of the differences between him and Peter; it would be pointless because they are as different as day and night. Really, in his time vine was what they called the plants not videos of people showcasing just how stupid they could be.

Even Bucky would be able to find common ground with Loki as long as it had to do with their mind-controlled past, if they wanted to – which, thankfully, neither seems to want.

But not Steve. Steve has more things in common with Thor than Loki – if he has even one with Loki, which escapes his mind dreadfully.

“Are you going to stand out there the whole time they will be gone?” Comes a voice from the glass doors and Steve turns to see Loki leaning on the panel, long limbs he still hasn’t grown into crossed on elbows and knees, a tight expression on his face. An expression Steve has started seeing more and more as of these days. “I will refrain from stabbing you, I promise.”

Steve huffs a laugh and half-hops his way inside.

“I don’t think you love me enough to stab.” Steve jokes, stopping in front of Loki’s tall form. “In fact,” he hums after a moment, tugging on one of the golden horns of his headband, “I don’t think you love anyone else enough to stab them.”

Loki grins widely, trying to play it off, but his creamy white cheeks and neck turn heated in a light dusting of pink. “Only Thor.”

“As you should!” Steve agrees walking to the far side of the room where the kitchen is and opening the fridge to look inside. “Dude’s whipped. I wonder how he survived so many years without running at your beck and call.”

Loki is eerily quiet for a long moment, drawing Steve’s attention from where he is pouring two glasses of juice. When he looks over he sees him perched on the couch’s back, fingers fiddling with the hem of his – Thor’s – hoodie; it’s dark blue and looks oversized on his thin frame, reaching to the middle of Loki’s thin thighs, matching with the purple-pink-blue galaxy yoga leggings he has on. High military boots that reach to the middle of his calves complete his look and Steve can spy a candy bar poking out of one pocket, but decides to think nothing of it.

“There was a time he did,” Loki says softly just as Steve thinks of changing the subject. “But then Father decided we were too old and that Thor couldn’t continue falling victim to my wiles. Not when one of us would be King one day.” his eyebrows pinch, pain is taking over his expression. “But Thor wouldn’t stop, he still followed willingly into my every plan, whether it was something as innocent as stealing sweets from the kitchens or a suicide _“mission”_ into the woods to prove his bravery, the dolt would smile and take it upon him. Even when Father started punishing him. I remember he kept saying,” Loki swallows hard, trembling smile curling on his lips as he changes his voice to a low baritone, “ _Father is a fool if he thinks the throne is of more importance than you._ ”

Steve smiles, it does sound just like Thor.

“However, Father’s _lessons_ turned crueler. _You have to learn resist temptation,_ he would say whenever I got Thor tangled in pranks, nodding to his Einherjar to deliver the accosted lashes.” Anger coils under Loki’s tone, same as in Steve’s stomach, but he continues nevertheless, expression closed off and eyes glassy. “It all turned worse when one of my challenges had Thor nearly dying. I were flogged as a punishment and Thor would too if it hadn’t taken him three months to recover, ‘till then Father’s fury had subsided, leaving way to the gladness he felt for his eldest’s health.”

Steve’s gripping the edge of the kitchen’s island so hard it cracks. Thor had never said such for their Father, has always spoken of him in such reverence and pride. Never would have Steve thought the renown King to be so cruel and inhumane. No wonder both of the brothers were a little funny in the head; their dependency on one another bordering to obsession.

But Loki isn’t done with his tale yet, and, even if his tone is borderline bitter and poignant, there still is the strange sense of detachment the others had reported noticing.

“After that I begged for him to stop, listen to father – I couldn’t see him in any more pain. But Thor wouldn’t, he would simply kneel there, taking the sting of the whip every time, making not a single sound and then – then he would smile at me, hug me in his chest and shush my crying. We were only children still, but he had always been tenacious and sharp on his beliefs. No one could make him do what he didn’t want.”

Steve is listening quietly, taking deep breaths to calm the fire in his chest. It’s of no importance how he feels, how sympathetic he might be, these things happened centuries ago and there is no thing he can do and no word he can say that will change anything or make it better. The princes had to grow up with the threat of responsibilities and repercussions over their heads, shaping them to the person they one day became.

Of course, no verifiable reason he might come to know will have him condoning Loki’s actions of war, however, he thinks he can understand Loki’s little trip down crazy lane a little better now.

Loki wipes his tongue over his dry lips, looking avidly at the fingers of one of his hands as he chips of his purple nail polish on his forefinger with the help of his thumbnail. Steve notices how tense his shoulders are, how fidgety he seems, the way his bottom teeth tease on his top lip for a second.

This Loki isn’t that much of a trained liar as he had been in the past, not as disciplined in hiding his feelings, always leaving something out for them to grasp at. Needless to say, Thor is the only one able to read him like an open book, knowing as if on instinct what Loki felt any minute of the day.

“I had to be the one to pull away, for Thor never would. I focused on my magics, lessons, books, refused his company in the day, acting out pranks and mischief. Everything we did together, I now did on my own.” Loki keeps on, evading  of Steve’s eyes and it is strange, for Thor had said the same, that dreadful night so many years past, when he had spoken of Loki until his throat had gone dry and the clouds kept on weeping.

Thor had told story after story, of a funnier, better version of Loki than Steve had known, lowering his head in regret and sorrow when he reminisced how he had to step back and away from his brother, withholding the real reason, giving a half-truth in its place, one that Steve could see right through. Nevertheless, he didn’t have the guts to tear apart Thor’s thinly held together composure simply so he would know what truth lay beneath.

In the end, they had both tried protecting the other, estranging themselves and turning bitter and hurt in the process.

(Steve thinks it can’t be that they are both so fucking dense and finally makes up his mind for the bet.)

“But still, there was one thing I couldn’t give up.” Loki huffs, running a hand through his hair. “You see, as kids we had shared a chamber, sleeping in each other’s beds more times than not and we continued doing just that years after Father had ordered our separation. The fool still accepted me in his bed, especially on nights it would storm.

“I’ve been so afraid of the sky’s fury, had always thought it was Thor’s. Nevertheless, I always sought him out, wanting my older brother’s reassurances, his easy smiles and the security only he could provide.” Thin shoulders rise and fall in a quick shrug, Loki’s green eyes shine in mirth. “Going to the source of my fear wasn’t the cleverest thing I did.”

“Thor would never hurt you.” Steve says with conviction, for he has seen it with his own two eyes, has lived through the time when Loki had been high on evil vibes and Thor still hadn’t done anything he didn’t know Loki could take, had tried kidnapping a captive from inside the newly formed Avengers’ hands, had tried to make his brother see reason. Good thing they had the Hulk to _beat_ some reason in Loki.

(Still, Steve is skeptical of their win back then; Loki was someone who could easily butt heads with Thor, giving him a run for his money as they were equal in strength and experience – even if his wasn’t the raw, brutal kind Thor's had always been. So, with or without Hulk _h_ _ow did they win against Loki in the past!?_ Steve probably will have to live with this eternal question flashing in neon in his mind.)  

Loki laughs, gaze turning affectionate. “Indeed.”

“What happened then? Did your Father found out?” he asks, taken in by Loki’s story, understanding why the rest like spending time with him, what they see in him. He wants to protect this young man with all he’s got. Is this an enchantment? Possibly, Steve wouldn’t run that past him.

“No, he didn’t.” Loki shrugs. “We were nearing adulthood until then, so, I guess Thor simply grew out of it.” He says it so flippantly, as if it doesn’t really matter, as if a veil has fallen over the previously accessible emotions and covered them from prying eyes.

Loki’s eyebrows pinch, like something is bothering him, his jaw muscle fluttering a little. And there it is again: the light annoyance of the past two months taking over him.

Steve wonders what it could be that has Loki so on edge.

 

* * *

 

“If my magic was replenished I would help ease your suffering.” Loki says, long-sufferingly while Steve chops vegetables some time later and he is stir-frying the meat.

“That’s nice of you.” Steve admits, smiling gratefully for the thought. “What’s up with that, though?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the knife near his fingertips. “When are you going to be. . . fully charged?”

Loki sighs again, tipping the frying pan. “Not too long yet; another five or six years.” He mumbles, munching on the vegetable-strips by the sound of it.

Steve has noticed how Loki seems to get older faster than normal, reaching nearly to Steve’s own height in the mere count of five years and he has suspected his magic has to do with it.

“Are you excited?” Getting back on full mode must be a hell of expectation for the young mage. Steve cannot even begin to think how it would be like to be back on ground zero suddenly, bared from the power and health, the easy way of _breathing_. It must be driving him nuts to be on the lowest of his powers for so long.

“I could use some steadying and not tiring so easily when I use too much, so, yeah I guess I am.” He doesn’t sound so. Instead, he sounds troubled, lost in thought.

Loki has been much too thoughtful lately, more held back if Steve has to put a name to it. He acts more of what Steve would think he had been in the past; mature and sophisticated, his jibes and barbs taking a slightly harsher tone, his smirks turning into almost-sneers. He has started the whole stabbing Thor business again for God’s sake!

Steve feels like they were lead on to believe a lie. Like Loki is slowly coming back to himself. Still, Steve cannot really find it in himself to feel angry or betrayed about it. Only time will show.   

They work in easy silence for a while after that, Steve chopping vegetables and Loki stir-frying meat for four people and two Gods, e.a. insane amounts of produce.

It’s all nice and companionable, so far from how it is when he cooks with any other. There is no mess taking over the kitchen, no sneaky thieves stealing the ingredients or food. No Tony blasting classic rock, playing air-guitar or drums over long solos, no chorus of _Thunder_ sounding as Thor exits or enters the room, no Natasha snarking at Tony and trying to tickle Bruce or climb over Thor’s back, no Bruce fixing his glasses and shooting _did-you-know-that_ ’s to willing ears.

It’s a little lonely Steve has to admit if he wants to be truthful. The silence would be suffocating if Loki wasn’t singing under his breath with his surprisingly nice voice, if the sizzling of the meat and vegetables didn’t fill the air.

Still, it’s not boring or unbearable. Just. . .different.

 

* * *

 

Thor comes home to an empty house late into the night. He is the first to reach there and still jittery from excessive energy, with a weird unsettling ache deep in his gut. His heart falls into an alarmed race when he sees neither sight nor hide of Loki or Steve. Instead, he is welcomed with the stench of smoke in a burned room.

“Jarvis?” he calls tremblingly.

_“Yes, sir?”_

“Where is my brother?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo~ is anyone still alive after the IW2 trailer, because i swear I am updating from the grave!  
> I am so sorry for taking this long to update, I've always been awful with this kind of thing and this chapter did torture me an awful lot as no matter what I wasn't particularly happy with it. (Fun fact: I had the skeleton/first draft of this chapter ready/sitting around since mid August! *rolls eyes*) Anyway, I finally got to a point that I can say that I am pleased with most if not all of it so, here it is~ 
> 
> Titles from now on will be chosen lyrics taken from [Dream ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWu7JDETw_I&index=85&list=PLrt7v5RlY_E9M8M6WO6YCo07lUhyXSDXC) by Imagine Dragons  
> Next chapter will be posted after New Year's probably as I want to write and post a holiday au (fairytale/parody kind of thing) and the holiday season is always the most busy for me, so if you want keep an eye out for it...? <3 
> 
> Also, give some love to my [little and sad child ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722825) if you're into that thing.
> 
> As always, an enormous THANKS to all of you who send me encouraging messages and comment/like this big baby of mine, you might not believe it but every little thing is important to me because I spend days stressing over chapters-plot-characterization and what not so thank you so much!! <3 Happy Holidays <3


	10. This Fear Is Only Everchanging and Evolving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor doesn’t hear him, doesn’t register his arrival. There’s the sound of water rushing through his ears, his heart keeps beating erratically and too-loud against his chest, his neck and fingers. His lungs are constricting. It’s everything Thor has feared for the past years; that one day will come when Loki will be taken from him again and he, _yet again_ , will fail to stop it from happening like he did every other time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for panic attack.

The living room is misted in thin gray smoke. Big black scorch marks have painted on the counters, around the stove and crawled up on the wall in the shapes of terrible fire licks. The stench is disgusting. Suffocating. It fills Thor’s throat, grasps at the walls of his lungs.

Jarvis is speaking to him, but, for some reason, it’s unintelligible to Thor’s ears. Words are being spoken but they make no sense, as if the All-speak is malfunctioning. 

Tony rushes in with a thump, still in his suit, tense from the signals coming up on his screen.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, glancing worried all around, taking in the mess. There’s no trace of either Steve or Loki anywhere that he can see and this just can’t be a good sign.

Thor doesn’t hear him, doesn’t register his arrival. There’s the sound of water rushing through his ears, his heart keeps beating erratically and too-loud against his chest, his neck and fingers. His lungs are constricting. It’s everything Thor has feared for the past years; that one day will come when Loki will be taken from him again and he, _yet again_ , will fail to stop it from happening like he did every other time.

“Hey, hey Thor! Big guy–” Tony’s armoured hand grabs Thor’s bicep – a mistake, for the jolt going through his suit flares his systems a little. “Everything will be fine. They will be fine.” He tries to reassure even as he jerks a step back – it falls on ears that have gone deaf. “Thor listen to me: _Loki_ will be fine!” Thor’s looking lost, gaze frenzied, blue-white is slowly creeping in the edges of his eyes. “They have to be.” Tony whispers.

A whine rolls from Thor’s lips and, if he wasn’t in the state of anguish that he currently is, he would feel ashamed by it. Right now, though, as he stands there, frozen in place, eyes wide open but unseeing – he has more important matters to think than his pride. Like how he _cannot breathe_. His chest is constricting to the point of getting physical and it's worse than receiving one of Hulk’s fists right to the center of it. Feels as if needle-covered tiny tentacles have wrapped around his lungs and squeeze, poke and prod at them, until they are close to bleeding or exploding – or maybe both.

Thor’s starting to feel a little faint, mind hazy when a horrible thought sneaks in unwelcomed; his baby brother, with magic inferior as it currently is, won’t be able to defend himself if a strong-enough foe has his hands on him; he won’t be able to escape unscathed – if at all.

Fear licks at his mind, bites at his heart as his vision tunnels into bright points surrounded by dark. His hearing turns rushed, blurred as if he is underwater and whatever might be said to him means absolutely nothing.

Thor doesn't notice the Avengers rushing in, nor their groans of pain when they rid themselves of their fizzling in-ears. He doesn't care for the flickering of everything electrically charged nor for Iron Man having to rush back out to the skies just to be able to communicate with his AI instead of combusting from the power surging through the air.

(There is a powerful gust trying to suck them into the Void. Watery eyes and a voice cracking with desperation to be seen, their father and King’s remorseful denial. The hit of realization as Thor _sees_ what his brother is about to do.  A hand, tight around his ankle and a slipping grip on Gungnir. The dullness of surrender inside devastated eyes as Thor screams and thrashes against the secure grip of Odin.)

Thor feels numb and hyper-aware at the same time. His lungs are stifling, burning with the effort to breathe – for every exhale of air he manages to release there are three to four rushed inhales, a desperate attempt to fill them as they constrict and keep on hurting, struggling, _drowning_.

(There is dust, the stench of a realm long perished. Pale skin turning to ashy, to make a morbid match with the ground bellow. Loki’s breathing is shallowing, eyes filled with sadness and a strange tint of peace that shouldn’t actually belong on his face. Not at this moment. Thor’s chest aches, the tears wanting to burst through his eyes char. There’s only refusal for what is going to happen, and Loki’s chest, warm with blood and hardly moving under Thor’s palm. Until it stops. Until everything comes to a standstill. Silence – creepy, deadly silence fills the decaying desert of Svartalfheim.)

His mind screams that he cannot lose Loki again. He cannot have him back only to be taken away again. What cruel joke is this? Why are the Norns playing so callous a game on him?

Thor manages a full breath, choking on the sting of smoke.

(There is smoke, smoke and flames. Screams of agony echo inside his ears, memories of burning metal, and clothes, _and_ _flesh_.  His people are dead. Heimdall is dead. Hot – sizzling heat that makes him sweat and, there, in front of him, his brother’s – his beloved’s – body, unmoving on the floor, eyes open and blotched red with burst capillaries, and Thor wails and screams until he, too, can suffocate into slow, cold oblivion.)

Time flows around him as if nothing has changed, it tries to cling on his heels, but as if from a greater source, Thor is pushed back to tumble through the years, made to relive every God-forsaken moment spent watching the life abandoning Loki's lovely eyes. It's the greatest torture inside this formless captor's hands. It's all that exists for Thor. For minutes, days, years. Thor cannot tell and he cannot care enough to be able to. Not if Loki is taken away again. Not if he is to be left alone. If Fates will it so, then they must take him along.

Natasha tries to talk to him, reach out and pull him from the bottomless vacuum of his panic, but her soothing words fall to cotton-covered ears. They mean nothing to him. She doesn't dare touch him, afraid of the white-hot arcs crawling up the entirety of his defeated form that’s knelt on the floor in pure agony.

Thor doesn’t know when he slumped on the floor, he only knows that he is falling. He is spiraling down a path of failures and wrongdoings, of pained smiles and lifeless eyes, non-beating hearts. Agony and misery and a rage so strong that feels like it will burn through him until there are only ashes remaining.

It must stop. Thor needs to take control of himself before it consumes him, before the Berserker takes the reins – it will be too late then. _Everyone_ will be in danger then. But he can’t. Not when the smell of smoke swirls in through his nostrils, not when there are no gentle hands to pull him back.

He wishes to pass out, to put a halt on this terrible panic, the harrowing images flashing before his eyes.

Like a sickening cherry atop an already gruesome cake, Thor gets a vision, dreadful as any other, one that isn’t a memory yet. He sees Loki, suspended in air by unseen bonds, eyes filled with tears – _pain –_ and his pink mouth open on a soundless gasp; his eyebrows get pulled together, grimacing, flinching as he tries to form words that get choked off, with no coherent start or end. Purple is pulsing around his body.

Thor is going to fall for good – he feels the trembling start of a roar taking root in his gut, ready to come out as his consciousness slips away to get substituted with the Rage. He tries to hold on to the last tendrils of coherence, but that last image of Loki remains intense in his eyes, burned into his retinas like any other. It takes over everything else, smothers his will to struggle further.

This time, Thor is sure, he will have more to mourn for when he comes back to his senses.

_If_ he comes back.

Thankfully, there are three little words that succeed in shouldering past the walls of it all.

"We found him."

 

* * *

 

"I know what you're thinking: _Oh, no! How did Loki end up here?_ Well, if I _must_ tell you, it all happened because I was a _Dumb Shit_ and didn't listen to my older brother, Thor."

Sitting on a boulder by a river somewhere, Loki speaks to seemingly no one. He is, boringly, throwing pebbles in the water. Watching them hopscotch as they break the surface into ripples that tremble and expand, tremble and expand, tremble and expand, until they can no more and simply sink into the clear bottom of the riverbed. Simple as that.

As simple as teleporting _and landing to the right place_ _should have been!_

“Perhaps I should start my own collection of guidebooks, titled _How to Be Dumb in Two Steps or Less: a series guide by Loki Odinson!”_ Loki grumbles and throws another pebble. This one is bigger and it meets the surface with what would have been a pleasurable _splat_ if Loki didn’t feel so irked at the moment. It goes right under to accompany the previous hundred or so Loki has thrown in during the past few hours. “It’ll save a lot of people the trouble of coming up with ways on their own. . .”

Beside him sits a Panda bear easily Thor's size. It's the most sentient bear Loki has ever seen, even with its continuously drooping eyes and massive body listing to the side, ready for an impromptu nap if the need strikes. It's looking at him as if judging just _how_ stupid Loki can be – and, if the disapproval in its eyes is to be any proof, it appears that Loki is just _so_ _immeasurably_ stupid that there is no compare. 

“Hey! I know, okay? It wasn’t the cleverest thing I ever did, though it seemed sound at the time.” The Panda’s face does something ridiculous, as if it is raising an eyebrow or something, wanting to say ‘ _you think?’_

Loki, for once, doesn’t have a smart enough retort to that so he decides to stay silent and sulk at the water.

It’s entirely his fault, too! He’s aware of that, but he had been waiting for so long for the opportunity to raid Thor’s candy stash that he _miiight_ have gotten a little carried away with just how much of the sugary delicacies he had consumed. Just a little bit. Really.

Loki may have a tiny problem with resisting all things sugar. It was, and still kind of is, his weakness to find pleasure in the various confectionery the world can cater him with.

Oh, how he enjoyed that burst of sweet and sour on his tongue as he chewed down on Asgard’s renown pastries, or how Vanaheim’s delectable scones melted onto his tongue. Alfheim’s sweet yet minty caramels that were thin and shaped into multi-coloured leaves, scenting his breath with their spices. And Midgard, as it seems, has a never-ending supply of stuff that can make Loki’s mouth water and his teeth ache for the chance to gnaw on them little delicacies; chocolates, candy, lollipops, jellies and so on and so forth. A paradise of confectionery sweetness – a hell for his developing seidr!

Right now, he damns this sweet tooth of his and his low self-resistance when it comes to sugar that has put him in this kind of trouble. It’s more of a compulsion, really; when he feels relaxed, he likes to munch on things and _sometimes_ it gets out of hand. Just like today.

(He remembers how he liked to nibble on bittersweet licorice as he studied for his lessons in his shadowed chambers or to play with the iced, fruit scented chips in his mouth during the lethargic summer days in Asgard, he found delight in every spoonful of his desert pudding after the diners he had with his family, and, more recently, he would wrap his lips around a lollipop or any sort of candy his brother would allow him to have while watching movies with him and their friends. Slurp down entire bowls of ice cream without him noticing as he brainstorms with Bruce or Tony –or both– about one thing or another, share chocolate bars and drinking sweet beverages with Natasha in that café down the street that has the most delicious muffins any of them have ever tasted.) 

The dent in Thor’s –Loki’s actually– stash must be great by now, as he was inconspicuously savouring one sugary sweetness after the other while he talked with Steve and while they played pool and, then, while they cooked their dinner.

So, yeah, Loki had been munching away all day while Thor was out. He had one chance; he wasn’t going to let it go to waste!

He had eaten so much he had lost count, overestimating the amount of energy his seidr could withstand. And then, just like the idiot he seems to be –his great intelligence not withstanding– he had tried to use magic to summon his phone in his hand while he stir-fried the veggies for their dinner.

Which had led to an uncontrollable burst of magic.

Which had the stove burst into flames.

Big, scorching flames.

Loki’s flares of magic had made the situation worse even as Steve’s training had taken over in seconds, retrieving the extinguisher while shouting at Loki to _stand back and stop doing whatever it is that you are doing_!

Thing is, Loki _couldn’t_ stop his seidr from releasing itself! No, because Loki, like the fool he is, had. _Eaten_. _Too. Much. Sugar_!

_Steve really should have known better than to get relaxed in the comfort of the moment_ , Loki thinks as he looks at the Captain’s drooping, heavy eyes, exuding as much judgment and criticism as he can through the fluffiness of his face.

(And what truly ruffles Loki’s metaphorical feathers – thankfully _he_ wasn’t the one to change into an animal this time – is that Steve has every right to treat him such.)

“It was on the spur of the moment!” he complains, voice high and a little whiny, throwing another small rock in the water. 

What was he even thinking? Oh, yes. _He wasn’t!_

It has been hours – _hours! –_ since they landed by this foreign river, the moon was still high in the sky and now the sun indicates that it is close to midday and, at least, considering the flora around them, it looks like they have landed somewhere in East Asia’s vicinity. Perhaps even somewhere in China as Loki had totally planned, if the bamboo forest surrounding them is of any indication.

The thing is, that Loki is still jittery with excessive energy, Steve is turned into a panda thus useless and, evidently, in all this surge of unluck, Loki has left his phone back in the Tower, on the kitchen island where it was before he tried to summon it. So, until Loki’s magic stabilizes, they have no way to defend themselves nor a way to call home or connect to the Avengers’ intercom.

“Oh, Norns.” Loki sighs dejectedly, bored beyond compare gathering Steve’s sleepy attention on his person.

Steve opens his mouth, possibly to ask what it is now, but what comes out is a roaring yawn. He shuts his jaws, looking surprised by the sound and crosses his strange beady eyes in a glare at his snout, which is black and furry. As are his hands when he lifts them to rub on said nose. Big paws that are easily Loki’s face in size. Steve’s belly is rounded and huge, covered in white and black fur and if Loki wasn’t a tiny bit afraid of his life, he would like to ruffle his hands through the soft fur the way he does to Lady Snugglepuff Squishypaws when they play.

He resists, though. It’s difficult, but he does. Nevertheless, Loki cherishes his life a little too much, even if it isn’t quite obvious most of the time.

“Thor is so going to ground me.” Loki grumbles, hugging his legs close to his chest.

Steve’s expression says: _If I don’t do it first, you little prick!_ And this, well, it’s a completely valid desire.

“I thought it would be nice to have Chinese right from the source seeing as ours was ruined.” Loki pouts, crossing his arms on his chest.

Steve only huffs in response and tries to get up from where he is sitting on his furry butt, tired of dealing with Loki’s shit – only for him to lose balance of his new weight and roll over on his side with a surprised growl. Loki sighs in frustration and gets off from what he has called _‘his rock’_ for the past several hours to help Steve right himself. _Seriously, Pandas are easily the most useless,_ Loki thinks in humour, taking as little enjoyment as he can from Steve’s helpless state. It’s a great feat, seeing as it might be the only chance he will get to witness the heroic Captain in this kind of state.

He half-huffs, half-growls a sound that Loki deems to accept as a begrudging ‘ _thanks’_ before returning to his rock to sulk as Steve wanders around.

Another pebble gets flicked into the water. Another one follows, Loki’s wrist snaps in frustration, sending it to raze over the water and impede itself in the opposite shore. He’s jittery with unresolved tension and if he wasn’t aware of the negative backlash it would have, Loki would try and spend the most of this overwhelming surge of power by hurling seidr-fueled balls at the rocks around them. Loki can’t do that though, it would gather unwanted attention and in the condition that both him and Steve are currently in, it could be a fatal mistake.

Loki groans and huddles close to Thor’s borrowed hoodie. It smells strongly like him – this familiar blend of ozone and earth, power and sweat, and it anchors Loki, clears his head and helps him think, search for a way to circumvent this weakness and, maybe, be successful in communicating with someone who can help. He thinks and thinks and _thinks_ for so long that when his gaze focuses again, he notices Steve has wandered farther away, munching on a broken branch of bamboo leaves.

“Don’t eat the entire forest.” he warns and shuts his eyes again, burrowing deeper in Thor’s hoodie. He hides his hands inside the pocket over his tummy, obscuring them from Steve’s gaze if he is to look Loki’s way, and starts murmuring. Gleaming green words for a spell well-known to him as the inside of his hand. A spell that asks for the barest minimum of seidr – the first one he learned to cast when he was young. His fingers tilt and crook in quickly formed signs, motions memorized by heart as they thump and touch and connect with each other. When the last syllable rolls from his lips and flares gold, he gets sucked through time and space.

In his mind’s eye he can see with great clarity a falcon, golden like the sun. A lasting trail is flaring up behind it as it rips through the Universe, through the planets and the stars, until it reaches Earth and takes a dive through the atmosphere to plummet towards the ground and explode into thousands of shimmering sparks.

Loki opens eyes that flare gold for a second before it gets absorbed into the green and his seidr makes a rock explode into tiny pebbles no matter the trivial quantity of power he used for the spell.

But it’s of no importance now – he’s got a location.

 

* * *

 

“Where is he?” Thor rasps.

It takes effort to speak, to drag himself from the black that still clings tightly at the edges of his vision. His voice comes out strange, thin and heavy – both a whisper and a grating rumble at once, attacking his hearing, echoing around the room as if to follow the runaway bolt of lightning that arcs from his trembling fingers and cracks against the opposite wall, missing Bruce by a hair’s breadth. He scrambles for cover behind Bucky and Wanda, throwing alarmed looks at the God still kneeling on the middle of the floor. Broken. Crumbled.

Thor notices his sight has been reduced by half only because he has to turn his head all the way to the right to glance at Tony. His bad eye is frizzling, spitting tiny orange sparks and he can’t find it in himself to care enough. “Where is he, Tony.” It’s a demand, a desperate plea to know.

Still coming down from the violent panic that has overwhelmed him, he tries to regulate his breathing, the way his Mother had taught him when he was a kid and easily angered; throwing tantrums and screaming his lungs out until he was a helpless heap on the floor, exhausted and dried out when the power inside of him had him triggered by the smallest of things – still untampered, still without a conduit and so raw for his little body to withstand.

Tony is out of his suit, clad in the yoga pants, t-shirt combo he usually wears when on a mission. He looks shaken but relieved, eyes darting between Thor’s, a little wary. “Goldilocks,” he begins, raising both hands in placation, “I can assure you they weren’t abducted, but I need you to calm down first.”

Thor’s _trying,_ but Tony’s words doesn’t help. It’s not as if there is a switch that Thor can pull and suddenly, miraculously, be as serene as Alfheim’s azure-tinted hot-springs. It doesn’t work that way. It has never worked that way for him – for _Thor_ , who could only ever calm down with the touch of his brother, the cool fingers carding through his hair and his soothing words teasing against Thor’s tresses.

 “Tell me,” he barks. The air goes in through his nose and out from his mouth, a hissing sound escaping through teeth that are painfully grinding together.

( _“Breathe with me”,_ his Mother would say early in his childhood – but, even so, it would require for his baby brother’s incomprehensible babbling for Thor’s toddler self to truly calm down – only, for later, to be replaced by Loki’s lilting voice. “ _Come on, brother, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on the way the air travels through your diaphragm.”_ Long fingers would comb through Thor’s knotted hair and his voice would continue to ease him gently back into reality. “ _Come back to me, Thor. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go, that’s it. You’re doing marvelous, brother dear.”_ Moments like those might be the only ones Loki allowed him to see the depth of his love; for once, his words weren’t underlined with traces of contempt, nor laced with barely veiled ire, but dipped in concern and a nearly urgent need to drag Thor back to reality.) 

It’s the memory of _those_ moments, _that_ voice that has Thor finally breathing easier. That has his shoulders slumping and a great sigh escaping his lungs as he leans back to sit on his calves. 

Thor’s fingers are still trembling when he guides them to his eye and pops it out. His mind, though, is the clearest it has been in the last half an hour or so. “I apologize.” he murmurs in the room at large, a little ashamed of his incomplete lack of control, keeping his eye on the fake one in his palm as it throws sparks for a little while longer before it stops with a whir of a sound and the auburn of the fashioned iris turns dull altogether.

Natasha crouches before him, touching a hand on top of his thigh and the other closing over his palm. “We’ll fix this.” she promises and nods at Tony when he, too, comes to stand beside Thor.

“Yes, totally!” he agrees taking the mechanical orb. He starts playing with it, throwing it in the air and catching it again in quick succession. “Well, I don’t know _where_ they are, but I can find them now that you stopped doing the hanky-punky with my machines.” Tony tries to joke, receiving a huff of laughter for his troubles. “And before you ask–” Tony cuts Thor when he meets his glance, “your brother is, most probably, perfectly fine. He is simply being a little shit.”

_Tell me about it,_ Thor thinks ruefully. _It’s all probably because of Loki, too_.

 

* * *

 

 

Arashiyama. Kyoto-prefecture. Japan.

Figures.

It’s where one of his most favourite recent memories had taken place and it makes perfect sense for his magic to instinctually throw them here as it is somewhere Loki had felt safe and merry.

(Loki had come once with Thor, some scant couple of years ago, for the Hanatoro festival after learning about it from a documentary on midday-TV. The two of them had spent all ten nights of its duration strolling under the illuminated streets and trees, and Loki remembers the excitement that buzzed through him as he balanced onto Thor’s shoulders with acute accuracy.)

Right now however, Loki is tutting as he tries to herd Steve through the dense bamboo greenery.

It’s a slow and annoying process; Steve keeps trying to get his weight to roll backwards, sit on his rump; tries to cut sticks off the bamboo trees and munch on them, huffing and snorting into Loki’s face when he doesn’t let him and simply _making his life difficult!_

Loki’s stronger than him though, and the surprise he can see glinting inside Steve’s sleepy bottomless eyes every time Loki is successful in pulling him along, in not letting him fall back and probably sleep the day away as he seems so keen in doing so, fills Loki with some kind of strange gratification he doesn’t remember feeling in the past few years following his resurrection.

Drenched in sweat by now, he keeps wiping his face on his shoulder, blinking his eyes that burn with the salty sting of it and wishes he could teleport the couple of them for a mile’s distance. But, teleporting via seidr is a fine art. One that needs only a moment’s concentration when one’s got the hang of it, but requires a steady flow of power, a calm mind and to intimately know the place one wants to land on or else they can so easily get lost in the world between the worlds. Neither here, neither there, simply existing in the timeless macrocosmos of Yggdrasil’s branches.

Loki had been caught once. An amateur’s mistake when he was first learning the art of teleportation. He had falsely thought he could master it without the help of his unwilling, dimwitted tutors. Thus, he had done his research, had pondered over heavy tomes written in tongues long past dead and had exercised with inanimate objects and small, unimportant insects for months before trying it himself and, in a single moment of doubt, it had all gone to Hel. He had floated in the brilliant light of thousands of worlds for seemingly _years,_ slowly driving himself into madness before his beloved Mother had cut and ripped the spectrum of space and time, and with her gentle, powerful hands had safely retrieved him. Coaxed him for the first time back into a nearly healthy state of mind.

He and Thor were barely teens at the time and Loki would still allow himself to cry in their Mother’s skirts, to grasp tightly onto Thor’s hand while he could feel his brother wetting a patch on Loki’s shoulders with his own tears.

After, when they were cozily tangled under the sheets of their bed, still holding onto each other tightly while their Mother’s trembling voice murmured sweet reassurances to both of her sons, combing their soft hair with a nearly hopeless need to comfort and ascertain that both her children were safe and sound in her arms; Thor had informed him that he had been missing for only three days and up to the last minute they weren’t sure if they would be successful in retrieving him. He had shakily held Loki in his arms, squeezing him on his chest as if his life depended on feeling his brother’s heart beating against his own.

Loki is thankful, actually, for his magic not throwing him and Steve back to that maddening nothingness or turning them into a million little pieces, and he is angry at himself for forgetting that he is _acquired_ to know the destination and not only think about it. They have avoided great dangers only by a twist of sheer luck.

Perhaps the Norns do like him a little after all.

(This is the reason the Bifrost was also one of its kind. It used seidr, yes, but it was a kind of seidr difficult in acquiring – a fusion between that of the Allfather's and the Dwarves'. A special feat that grants access to any place on Yggdrasil’s branches, unneeded of previous knowledge of the place one might want to go. And it is that same seidr Stormbreaker holds; the fusion of Thor's inherent power, a dying Star's flame and a Dwarf's crafty hands.)

“Damn it, Steve, will you just-!” Loki grumbles, tugging on a fluffy paw with a little more force than necessary. It makes Steve lose his already precarious balance and tilt forward. “Oh, no.” Loki sighs, trying and failing to either steady Steve on his feet or get out of the way on time.

Steve huffs, sending what can be taken as a self-satisfied _smirk_ Loki’s way before he’s falling onto him, knocking him backwards to roll down the side of the knoll they are on. Bamboo trees crunch and break under their great weight doing nothing in blocking their fall.

They roll and roll and _roll_ – Loki’s view changing from dirt and grass to leaves and sky and right back again seemingly for no end. He can feel rocks and twigs nudging on every part of his body, no wonder going to leave countless bruises in their wake and his brother is certainly going to be in a snit at the sight of them.

A thorned bush scratches him on the cheek and. no matter how hard he tries to hold onto Steve’s paw, he can feel it slipping from his hand when his elbow knocks on a rock and his arm jerks in reaction. Steve roars lowly and tries to get hold of the thin trees, uprooting a few of them before he manages to reduce and stop his momentum. However, Loki’s grip is still slipping and, when Steve finally jerks into a stop, Loki is sent to hit with his back on another, thicker tree. He gasps in pain and let go of Steve’s paw without meaning to, closing his eyes as he continues to slide down the hill until he comes to land against a short fence with a low _thump_.

There are voices coming from overtop him, from the other side of the fence, and Steve is heavily making his way down to Loki’s side, letting out worried little grumbles. Loki cannot make out what the people are saying. He feels the world turning without even opening his eyes and, when he does, the sky and the foliage are spinning so bad he wants to hurl.

Only now he notices the sugar has funked up his All-Speak, too. “Oh, damn.” He mumbles, resting a throbbing palm over his eyes.

_This is going to be so much fun_. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. I lied so bad.
> 
> Hii~ Yeah so, I am not dead (only slightly) and haven’t abandoned this fic!  
> I only was really busy and had a few (lot of) setbacks, one of which was that the laptop I was writing in broke down, which lead to me finding out that I hadn’t taken a backup of the most recent draft, which in turn lead to a mini break down and refusing for some days (weeks) to even work up the mood to try and dig out of the recesses of my forgetful mind the 1,5k of words I lost.
> 
> But now, almost 5 months later, I finally reached the point that I simply _cannot_ work on this chapter any more and I have to start putting together the rest 6-7 chapters that are left. (Still, I might come around later to tweak at the last part of it because I simply cannot leave it well enough alone fml)
> 
> Big shout-out to my sis [WolfKind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfkind) for trying so hard to retrieve my draft; to my boo [Sternflocken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternflocken/pseuds/Sternflocken) for the positive vibes she kept sending me all along; and to my kitty-Annie for withstanding _hours_ of my incessant whining and slapping sense into me and all of you for making me smile with your comments and want to go on with this BEAST!  <3 
> 
> (Pssst, you can read the reason this fic was put on hold in the first place [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314247)if you want. I'd appreciate some support <3)

**Author's Note:**

> Rating for Thor/Loki in later chapters with adult!Loki.
> 
> Come say hello at [Tumblr](https://theangrykimchi.tumblr.com/)


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